


Broken in Your Arms

by goldxblooded



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kate is not an Argent, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 04:08:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 89,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2678474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldxblooded/pseuds/goldxblooded
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*This work was deleted from AO3 on 11/26/2014. All chapters have been reuploaded.*</p><p>Stiles finds a broken man with no memories. In the process of helping him remember who he is, Stiles finds himself feeling things he swore to never feel again. The past is brought to light, two broken halves try to make one whole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Damaged

**Author's Note:**

> As the summary says, my work got deleted from AO3. I want to apologize to my committed readers, I am so disappointed that all of your kind words got deleted, I wish I could've archived them somehow. Please bear with me as I attempt to repost these chapters daily. I am so very upset, but what's done is done. I will NOT be giving up on this fic, the chapters will be reposted.
> 
> To all my new readers, welcome. I hope you enjoy this work. Please feel free to leave me any comments, I always reply. You can talk to me about anything, any questions or concerns in the work. There will be some traces of psychological and physical trauma in the story, but I won't be explicitly detailing them. There will also be a referenced past of domestic abuse. 
> 
> I will be updating daily until I repost every chapter that was deleted. I will notify everyone of this once I get there. Thank you for your patience.

" _Let's go to the woods_ , they said. It would be  _so_  much fun, they said." Stiles mumbles to himself as he treads through the darkness. "Yep. This is SO much fun."

Give him and his two best friends a weekend off of work, and this is what you get: three grown men lost in the wilderness in the middle of the night.

Scott and Isaac were so convinced that camping in the middle of no where was going to be exciting. Something about their manliness. Ten minutes into the reserve, and he had already been separated from them, who most likely were just as lost as he was.

You'd think two firefighters would be able to navigate their way through this forest by now.

Then again, his best friends were always idiots.

Stiles had been walking in random directions for about an hour now, trying to tell himself that there weren't viscous beasts waiting to eat him alive. The forest is silent for the most part, the only sound he can hear are the leaves and twigs that crumble against the soles of his feet as he walks. He had on his red hoodie, but it was still chilly outside, breath easily visible under the bleeding moon. His phone had lost signal a few minutes back, to be honest, he had no clue where he was.

And he could've sworn he passed the same tree seven times now.

And that rock.

And  _that_ rock.

And that patch of moss that oddly looks like Texas.

Yep. That moss definitely seemed familiar.

 _'Just like good ole times, huh?'_  he thinks to himself.

Stiles couldn't even count how many times he got lost in this forest. The reserve never ceased to be fucking creepy as hell. It was creepy back in junior high, and it was still terrifying now, no matter how much older he was. He is absolutely sure his best friends are thinking the same thing right now.

Scott and Isaac used to explore these woods with him all the time, but they were most likely more lost than him. "I hope they are being attacked by angry vampire squirrels. Or werewolves." He chuckles evilly to himself. Serves them right.

After awhile, he wonders if it would be easier to just stand there and wait for the two to find him, instead of walking aimlessly in circles.

Two seconds later Stiles is walking forward again, because he would have better luck waiting for the tooth fairy to come save him. Looking on the bright side, this wasn't so bad. The moon was calming, the forest was quiet and the air was relaxing. Ignore the blood sucking mosquitoes, terrifying darkness, and potential wild beasts, this was somewhat peaceful. At least he'd gotten his time away from the hospital. Everything was oh-kay. Everything was going to be okay.

 _Then_  he hears a snap.

Like a twig.

But a hundred times louder. Like a thousand twigs being crushed. By a mountain.

He pauses in his stride, two feet nailed deeply into the soil. His eyes shift from right to left quickly, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. He turns his body without moving his legs, so as to not give away his position. All there is is darkness and trees. Darkness and trees. He can hear his own shallow breathing, he can hear the blood rushing through his ears. His heart starts to race, eyes carding through nothing but shadows.

There is another snap, but this time louder, like a branch.

His heart is beating loudly in his chest, his two legs heavy like concrete against the dirt.

Stiles turns around to where the sound came from. In the shadows, he sees a figure approaching slowly, but it's too dark to identify who it is.

Step.

Step.

Step.

"S-Scotty? That you bud..? Issac?" He says, a little louder than intended. His feet are rooted into the ground, eyes glued to the moving shadow, making sure it doesn't leave his sight.

The figure is making fidgety movements, like it can't keep its balance, stepping side to side. The body is too muscular, too built to be either of his best friends.

At a time like this, any normal sane person would turn heads and run.

But of course, everyone in Beacon Hills knew Stiles Stilinski was anything but normal.

So he inches forward slowly, taking one step at a time, ready to run the other way if things headed south. The shadow doesn't seem to see him, as it shuffles unsteadily, crushing leaves under his feet, walking like it's trying to carry the sky. After a few more steps, each less stable than the less, the figure trips and collapses onto a pile of leaves and moonlight. Stiles is off the balls of his feet in record time, rushing towards to the now unconscious man. The fear in bones quickly evaporate as the figure faints.

He gets on his knees and turns the heavy body onto its back.

The air in his lungs melt all at once into the cold, autumn air.

The man was in terrible, terrible shape.

Stiles had never seen any patient so badly injured. But it wasn't the severity of the wounds .. it was the amount of wounds.

The man is bleeding and bruised, both from newly inflicted wounds, and from wounds Stiles can tell are months old. From what he can diagnose, the man has had a recent head trauma, and a possible concussion. His face is bleeding from a wound on his cheek and on his jaw. He is shirtless and filthy with soil and blood, open wounds dirty and bleeding.

When the clouds above shift away from the moon, he gets a better look at the man's upper body. Stiles can feel his stomach twist, bile threatening to come up his throat. It is also desecrated with nasty wounds, purple bruises and red cuts vandalize his muscular torso. Stiles feels his chest tighten at the sight of so much pain and suffering. There was no lethal internal damage, but he could tell easily what kind of wounds these were. 

Different wounds of different sizes each inflicted at different times.

This man was abused. Quite possibly abduction wounds. The kind where the victim doesn't resist.

Stiles can feel his heart beating faster and faster. If this man was running from his abductor after ... months of torture, then said abductor would probably looking for him right now. What was he suppose to do? This man needed attention, but Stiles had no supplies, it was just the trees and darkness. He could feel the fear settle back into the recess of his bones again.

"Sir. Sir, can you hear me? I am Dr. Stiles Stilinski from Beacon Hills Hospital, can you hear me? I am going to get you somewhere safe."

The man slowly stirs awake heavy eyelids lifting under the moonlight's weight. His eyes are the color of spring. The color of leaves melting under the golden sun. For a second, Stiles can feel that warmth.

Almost immediately, the man in Stiles arms quickly fidgets in attempt to escape from him, he uses the backs of his elbows and the bottoms of his feet to drag himself away and against a tree.

"No! No. It's okay. I'm here to help. Please." He says in calming tones, holding out the palms of his hands, like you would to steady a frightened horse.

The man's chest quivers as uneven breaths are pulled into his lungs. Stiles slowly makes his way over, still on his knees. He puts a hand on the mans shoulder to let him know it's okay. The wounded mans eyes slowly trace Stiles' every movement. His skin is cold, so very cold.

"I'm going to get you to a hospital okay?"

The man's eyes go wide and he starts shaking hysterically. His breathing is more erratic and he backs into a tree like he can actually move it.

"Wait, wait! No hospital. Okay, no. Just let me get you somewhere safe." He tries to use the voice he uses for the sick children in the hospital, the ones that are too afraid to get treatment.

The man looks at him with fear alongside those gold highlights in his eyes. There was no doubt that his head was hit hard. He showed obvious signs of disorientation and of a concussion. The man starts to drift away, his eyes heavy again, and he falls back to the ground with a thud.

Stiles lets out a heavy sigh that is audible. He puts the man's arm around his neck and lifts him to the best of his ability. He then starts dragging the man with all the strength in his body. They start walking, but that didn't change the fact that he was lost in the middle of the woods.

After a couple of grueling minutes of slowly trudging in the forest, in the opposite direction of where the mysterious man appeared from, Stiles' body finally gives out. It was difficult lugging the heavy man alongside him, and Stiles was easily fatigued in just a few minutes. It feels like fire inside his muscles, his legs ready to collapse.

He is about to lay down the man when he hears rustling and two voices from behind him.

"Stiles?"

It feels like heaven, hearing Scott's voice again. He can't immediately turn around with the extra weight on his shoulder, but he definitely speaks.

"Oh my god where the fuck have you idiots been?!" He cries.

The two quickly come to his side and Isaac looks at him crazy, trying to assess the situation.

"Stiles I think you have a bleeding, shirtless man on you."

"Gee, thanks Isaac I hadn't realize with all the blood SPILLING on my body." He spits. "I found him in the woods, now help me."

His best friends each grab a side on the man and Stiles lets go and stretches. "He has some bad wounds on him, we need to get him to a safe place."

"Hospital?" Scott ask as they begin to walk at a much faster pace.

"No. I don't think that's the best idea." Stiles breathes in reply, carding his fingers through his messy hair.

"Your place it is."

 

* * *

 

After what feels like decades upon decades, they finally get the man into Stiles' loft. His two best friends lay the man's body onto his bed and promptly start panting.

"God, does this guy lift weights for fun?" Isaac groans, half breathed, leaning against the wall. Scott sits down on Stiles' desk chair, wiping his forehead, equally tired.

"Stiles, you know you just brought a random man into your home? This isn't really normal." Scott says. "Even for you."

Of course, Stiles knew that. Nothing about this was 'normal'. And the more time he gets to reflect on his actions, the more he begins to question them. Ever since his mother's death, he always had this instinct, this need to help people, to care for them. That's what pushed him to be a doctor. That was his drive. Helping others.

Seeing this man out there, alone, bruised and battered, his bones knew nothing else but to help.

"First things first, I need to patch this guy up." He says as he washes his hands and slips on some gloves. "Second, I am totally choosing where we go for our next trip." He slaps both of them with the side of his arm. They both put on puppy dog faces and pout. "No pouting." he scolds, which leads to more pouting.

He pulls out a large first aid kid and begins to treat his patient.

Now, with full lighting, Stiles can tell that the man is in much, much worse condition than he initially thought.

Apparently, his best friends are thinking the same.

"What has this guy been through .." Scott whispers, eyes dull from the array of injuries.

Isaac cringes and looks like he is about to vomit. Stiles knows exactly why. Visions of similar wounds on Isaac's body vibrate heavily in Stiles' head. Regret begins to pool in the pit of his stomach.

"Isaac, can you go downstairs and give Lydia call for me? Try and see if you can get Jackson or Danny off the record to come over here. And grab some water." Isaac understands what he is trying to do and is grateful. He looks at him and nods a 'thank you', then quickly leaves the room.

"I almost forgot about his dad and all." Scott whispers once Isaac is out of hearing range.

Back in highschool, Isaac was the quiet kid. Always introverted and secluded. It wasn't until Scott and Stiles found out about his abuse, about his circumstances did things change. They went right to Stiles' dad, and Isaac's father got locked up for a long time. Jackson, feeling bad cause he never knew his neighbor was being abused, got his lawyer parents to pull strings .. and then Isaac moved in with Scott. They were a family ever since, protecting each other like pack.

"Yea. Just proves how bad this situation is." He says just above a whisper. This just got a hundred times more serious.

Stiles looks at the canvas that was golden skin and injuries. Purple bruises like flowers bloom across his skin, a garden of broken blood vessels. There were nasty wounds torn across his body, but what really shakes Stiles .. are the ones that are fading. None of them were inflicted at the same time, rather they were inflicted over a period of time.

"This one here," he says to Scott, pointing at a spot on the man's abdomen. "is five to six days old." He moves his finger to one slightly above the collarbone. "This one? Two to three weeks." Stiles hands roam to two deep cuts on both wrists of the man. Cuts only inflicted by something that would have tied the man down. Like handcuffs .. ropes .. or chains. He doesn't have to say anything about those, but Scott still shudders anyways.

Scott remains silent, rubbing his chin with two fingers.

Stiles begins to disinfect and bandage all of the wounds. A couple of them needs a few stitches, and so he does that as quick and clean as he can.

A minute after he finishes, they can hear the door downstairs open, and Stiles looks at Scott. "Tell them to come upstairs, you stay down there and keep Isaac company. Make sure he's okay. I have those peanut butter cups in the cabinet that he loves."

His best friend nods smoothly and leaves.

A few seconds after that, Lydia, Danny, and Jackson all enter the room together. There is a soft gasp from Lydia, but the boys stay silent.

After a quick scan of the situation, Lydia moves swiftly to the injured man's side, rechecking each wound with meticulous eyes.

"What did you get yourself into now, Stilinski." Jackson says quietly. Him and Danny are still in their police uniforms. His face is cold, obviously having seen wounds like these before. "Does the chief know about this?"

Stiles thinks about his dad, and how it would worry him.

He looks down.

"I'll take that as a no." Danny says. He has this knowing look on him. "I am also going to assume you want to keep this under wraps."

He looks at the pair of officers and nod sharply. "This guy .. I don't know. I just have a feeling."

The two come closer to inspect the wounds. Neither of them grimace or look disgusted, they were trained better.

"We all know what happened here." Jackson snaps.

"But you don't, Jackson." He replies quickly.

"Obviously this guy was fuc-"

"Shut up." He shouts.

The blonde grimaces, eyes colder than ice. "How are you going to tell m-" Danny places a gentle hand on his partners shoulder. Jackson looks at him with those stone blue eyes of his, and then steels himself.

In a softer voice he asks, "What do you think you are doing here Stiles?" He knows the blonde is serious, by the way he uses his first name.

"Helping an injured man Jackson."

"This is serious. We need to see who is responsible for this and lock that bastard up."

"Okay, but I know he won't answer you. And I don't want him being poked and prodded by some psychologist and then locked up in a white room. I can do this Jackson. I can." He shines those puppy eyes that work like magic on Jackson.

The blonde looks like he is going to argue more, but chances a glance at Danny, and then rolls his eyes.

"I'm going to call and ask for extra patrols around this neighborhood." Jackson says and then leaves without looking back.

Stiles can't help but feel hurt inside from being doubted by Jackson. But then he realizes the blonde is only looking out for him. That had become a habit after highschool. Some would say it was Stiles who broke rich blonde boy from his shell. After all, he was the only one who understood the pain of not having a mother.

"He's only acting that way because he's worried." Danny says, moving up to the bed, reading Stiles' mind.

"I know." Stiles whispers.

Lydia stands up and ties her hair in a bun. "There are little signs to show infection. You treated the wounds well. The stitches are a little sloppy, but it is sufficient. Your sutures are improving."

He can't help but laugh. Leave it to Lydia to make bandaging a beauty competition.

"He will be okay, and lucid in an hour or so. I hope you know what you are doing Stiles." He looks at her, and can tell she is also worried. "Wounds like this .. he is bound to have some psychological damage. He could be violent, he could be delusional. He could think that you are the one who hurt him. This isn't something simple Stiles."

"I know. I can handle it. I am a doctor too, y'know. If I can't, then I'll get help."

"Why not bring him to the hospital?" She asks. "And the police? Why not tell them? That seems to be the logical answer here."

He thinks about this for a second. He also thinks about the thick fear that suffocated the man back in the forest. How desperately, he tried to get away from him, rubbing his elbows raw trying to escape from the word 'hospital'. Whatever was going on here, he had to find out himself.

There is a small pause. "For the quick minute he was awake, I told him I was taking him to the hospital. He was afraid. And I'm not sure why. As for the police, I don't think that will be a good idea."

"But if this is really an abuse case, shouldn't we be filing it?"

"I don't know. I want to figure him out first."

She laughs. "So typical of you, always caring for others at your own expense. Some would say this is why you're a better doctor than me-"

Stiles almost smiles at the ginger.

"-those people would be wrong." She says, taking off the gloves.

"How nice of you." Stiles says sarcastically

Lydia gives up. "Okay. Let me know if you need any medical help. I'm going back, my shift starts in ten. I will be sure to bring back some antibiotics." And with that she leaves, cherry blossom perfume wallowing behind her.

Stiles revels at the fact that his friends trusted him so much. They never pushed a subject to hard on him. They'd never doubt him unless worried.

He can feel Danny step closer to him. "Stiles."

He gets off the bed and stands in front of the officer.

"Are you sure you're okay with this? For all we know he could be a crazy psycho murderer."

"Okay, and that's when you can finally have this loft."

His friend chuckles. "For once, I'm not counting on it."

Danny searches for something in his eyes, Stiles isn't sure if he finds it or not, though. He leaves with a pat on Stiles' shoulder and a 'call me'. He owed the officers. Under the law, they was supposed to report this case of abuse. Stiles was lucky he had such good friends.

 

* * *

 

 After Danny and Jackson leave, Stiles calls Allison at the Vet's office and fills her in. She tells him to stay safe and don't do anything stupid. He replies with light banter and reassurance.

Isaac has a shift at the firehouse, but Scott refuses to leave Stiles alone, so he sleeps in the guest room. Stiles knows that his best friend is probably fast asleep right outside his door, just in case anything happens.

Stiles spends the rest of his night with a chair pulled up next to his bed, just staring at the man's chest as it rises and falls. It does so almost like the ocean, slowly, but strongly, like it could hold up ships. He glues his eyes to the breathing, making sure it doesn't stop. This guy escaped. He survived. No way in hell Stiles was going to let him die and not see freedom.

The man often makes whimpers in his sleep, little fissures run along his bones as he shifts in bed. Even his sleeping was scarred and unstable.

Now that Stiles has a chance to look at him, he can see that the man is absolutely beautiful in every way. The way his skin stretches over lean muscle. The way his stomach dips after he lets out a breath. The way his jaw sharpens, catching shadows softly.

Who would hurt a person like that?

His mind is a storm of thoughts, calculating and thinking because he was always a spazzy person, ADHD and all. It is probably an hour later the man awakens, eyelids opening slow and steady. He looks around slowly, carefully, and they stop once he sees Stiles.

It looks like a million things run through the man's mind, all in a second. He then looks at his body, at the bandages, and at the bed. There is a little pause before he jerks awake. The man gets up quickly, crawls to the floor, and gets on his knees right in front of Stiles. He dips his head slightly, and rests his hands on each knee.

"D-dude. What are you doing!" Stiles says, getting down off the chair frantically.

The man's hands are gripping his knees tightly, his knuckles going snow-white, like he is bracing himself for a hit in the head.

"Stand up." Stiles puts his hands on the man's large bicep and lifts him. The man rises reluctantly, and Stiles seats him on the bed again.

Two emerald green eyes stare up at him, they are filled with fear and confusion and sadness. He looks like a kicked puppy. Only that he's bigger, much bigger than a puppy. More like a wolf. A sad, kicked wolf.

"What's your name?" Stiles asks, sitting down on the chair, so they are of equal height. This makes the man uncomfortable, being able to look at Stiles at eye-level, so he looks away.

"Derek." And that is the first time Stiles hears the man speak. His voice is a little rusty, a little hoarse, but still something about it shifts Stiles' insides.

He grabs the glass of water and hands it to Derek, who looks scared to touch the cup.

"Drink it .." He says, and Derek does so. "Does .. it hurt?" He asks, after Derek drains the entire glass in two gulps, a trail of water leaking down his chin. The man looks at the bandages again and then back at Stiles with those eyes.

"No."

Stiles takes a finger to wipe the mans chin, but Derek flinches terribly from the approach. When all he feels is his chin being wiped, the man looks shocked.

"Right." He didn't know what else to say. 

"My clothes probably won't fit you very well, but I found this sweater from college. And some sweatpants. They should do for now. I'm going to go get you food, so change and stay here." Derek nods slowly, like he is surprised by .. kindness.

Stiles stands and leaves for the door, but is stopped by the man's voice.

"Are you my new master?"

He can feel all the blood drain from his face. He turns slowly to look at the man with furrowed eyebrows.

"W-what?" Stiles asks, turning around.

"Are you my new master?" He asks again, his throat bobs after a hard swallow.

A hurricane of thoughts flurry through his mind. It was too much to think about. This man has evidently been through many many terrible things. Stiles didn't have enough information to assume, but from what he can tell .. things were going to get extremely complicated.

"No." He says firmly. Because there is nothing else he can really say. "No. Get dressed, I will be back to feed you .. and then we can talk."

Derek nods.

Stiles opens the door and an asleep Scott falls headfirst in between his legs.

His best friend shakes awake, staring up at Stiles. He sits up wide eyed and looking around, like a dog after hearing a loud noise. "Scott, how did I know you'd do this?"

Scott stands and rubs the back of his head. He peeks in to look at Derek, who is pulling on the shirt.

"He's awake."

"Why yes, Scott, how perceptive of you."

Stiles nudges his head towards the stairs, telling Scott to follow him downstairs. They both descend his spiral stairs and into the kitchen. Stiles throws together a sandwich while they talk.

"He asked if I'm his .. new master." He says reluctantly.

"Dude, thats creepy." Scott has this gross facial expression on.

"Tell me about it. He doesn't seem to be violent. Just scared."

"I kinda feel bad for the guy."

"You wouldn't have a soul if you didn't. It just makes me so mad that someone did this to him."

"Imagine how Jackson feels."

After a silent pause, "Stiles."

He looks up from the plate of food. "Yea Scotty?"

"Are you .. sure this is the best idea?"

He knew his own well being would affect his friends. They would always be looking out for him, always making sure he was safe and healthy. Ever since their high schools days, they'd never stopped. Stiles glances at his friend. He can practically feel Scott worrying for him.

The man had rings under his eyes and light stubble. He has worn this look plenty of times, and Stiles hates that  he has been the cause of almost all the of them.

Stiles wasn't going to let this affect his friends.

"Scotty, go get some sleep, I got it here. He is safe, so please, go to sleep. In the guest room this time Scott."

His best friend looks reluctant, but nods. "Okay man. I have a shift tomorrow morning will you ..?"

"I'll be okay."

It takes Scott a minute to make sure Stiles is telling the truth before leaving to his room. Stiles gathers the plate of turkey-lettuce-cheese-tomato-with-extra-mayo sandwich and walks up the staircase.

He spends a minute breathing before opening the door.

 

* * *

 

Stiles opens the door to find Derek in the same exact spot, unchanged, except with clothes on now. The worn and ripped pants he was wearing before was folded neatly and placed on the ground. Derek looks up at him and immediately rushes down to the floor onto his knees. There is a painful sounding smack as he kneels on the floor.

Stiles almost drops the sandwich and drink at the sudden movement. "Hey! You have got to stop doing that dude. Get up."

Derek looks like he just got slapped, but does get up slowly, and sits on the bed.

"Here." He hands the man the plate and sets the glass on the nightstand. "I'm going to ask a few questions."

Derek just stares at the sandwich like he's never seen bread before.

"Hey. Eat." Stiles says and sits on the wooden chair.

He does as told, bites slow like he's waiting for a trick.

"Answer only if you feel comfortable and only if your mouth is clear. I don't want food on my nice sheets." He nods.

"What is your last name?"

"I don't know." He says after swallowing food.

"How old are you?"

"I don't know." He repeats, mayo on the corner of his mouth.

'How wonderful' Stiles thinks to himself. Was this amnesia? Post traumatic stress? Had the head trauma caused memory loss? Or was it just temporary from the stress?

After Derek is convinced the sandwich isn't poisoned, it is finished in record time.

"Okay .. Well, what do you remember?"

The man thinks for a second. And then fear washes over his face, slowly but completely. His eyes dull, color draining from his face, as numbness replaces it.

"Hey, hey." Stiles takes his hands and holds the man's face softly in his palms. "Hey. Are you okay?" The sudden touch shakes Derek from the trance.

He whispers like someone is going to hear him. "She used to hurt me. But you don't."

Stiles' chest goes cold.

"You don't have to worry about her anymore." He says quickly and with confidence in his voice. "You don't have to be afraid anymore."

Derek nods, but he isn't sure the man believes him.

Stiles lets go and stands to leave, he was tired, and Derek's injured body needed rest. They would talk about things tomorrow, after they both got a night of sleep. "Okay, get ready for bed." He says to the man.

Derek looks down quickly, face pale again. Fear visually overtakes his body. "Yes sir." He says quietly, voice audibly shaking. He gets off the bed slowly, takes off his shirt with rigid motions ... and then starts pulling off his pants.

"W-whoa! Whoa dude, stop." Stiles can feel his cheeks pinken. He covers his eyes. "What're you doing!"

"You wanted me to prepare for bed with you."

And just like that, Stiles could feel winter swallowing up his lungs. He can feel the blood in his veins freeze up. Prepare for bed? What in the hell has this guy been through? Maybe a better question was, what hadn't this man been through? His heart seems to slow and race at the same time, his blood running cold.

"No. No. Put your clothes back on." The man does so, looking confused. "Listen. I will never hurt you, okay?"

Derek looks at him sideways, like he's never heard words of that nature. Like he only expects pain. Like he only knows pain.

"Sleep here. We will talk tomorrow morning. If you ever need anything, call out." Stiles says softly, his mind a mess of thoughts. "Take the pills I left next to the water. They will help you sleep."

And with that, Stiles leaves, knowing good and well he is not going to be able to sleep.

 


	2. Crestfallen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all my subscribers/bookmarkers who have previously read these chapters, I want to say sorry for the upcoming days as I probably will be flooding your emails with notifications. I thank you all for your patience and support! I will be updating every couple of hours to minimize the consecutive notifications but maximize the amount of chapters I am putting up.
> 
> Thanks!
> 
> To all my new readers, I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Happy Thanksgiving! I'm thankful for you all.

Its not until 6 in the morning does Stiles catch a few minutes of sleep. He's sitting outside his bedroom on the iPad all night, collating information on post-traumatic stress and victims of abduction and abuse, researching case studies and studying medical journals. His brain burned with information, it was an eventual overload leading to him knocking out.

His eyes flutter awake after probably half an hour of sleep to see that Derek is kneeling in front of him, in his college sweater and some grey sweats. His head is bowed slightly. Stiles rubs his face roughly and jolts awake. "What're you doing?"

Derek looks up at him with his signature puppy dog eyes. He looks so sad, so broken.

"Stand up." He grabs the man and lifts him as he stands. How long had he been kneeling? How long had Stiles been asleep?

"I'm sorry." Derek mutters, looking down at his feet like he's afraid of Stiles' eyes.

"For what dude?" He asks, voice still groggy.

It a takes a few seconds for the man to speak, eyes still glued on the floor. "You slept on the floor because of me."

Stiles laughs because the large, grown man sounds like a little boy who got caught doing something naughty.

"Don't worry about it. I didn't even sleep for that long, and I have another bed in the other room. I also have like three couches. If I wanted to sleep comfortably, I would have. I was just working all night and fell asleep."

Derek looks a little relieved, but doesn't say anything.

"Your knees must be aching." He gives the man a pat on the shoulder and a gentle squeeze.

"I'm used to it." Derek says, voice soft under the confession. Hearing that wrecks Stiles' heart a little. Derek was used to kneeling. Stiles wasn't sure he could have felt any worse, but apparently it was quite possible. He gives the man's shoulder another squeeze, which makes him finally look at Stiles' eyes.

"Under the cabinet in the guest bathroom, there is a spare toothbrush. Wash up, and come downstairs. I'll make us some grub then we can get to talking."

Derek looks extremely reluctant, but does so anyways.

After the bathroom door shuts, Stiles takes a second to stretch his limbs, letting out a loud yawn.

So yesterday wasn't a nightmare. Derek was still here, still broken into a thousand pieces. He lets out a sigh and scratches his head. He was almost convinced that this was some crazy horror story he'd wake up from.

Stiles peers into the guest bedroom to find Scott upside down, snoring away. Seeing his best friend like that makes him smile. No matter how grown the guy was, he still looked like a baby when asleep.

"Scotty!" He shouts loudly, which causes his best friend to jerk awake, falling off the bed. Stiles laughs obnoxiously. "You're late for your shift at the firehouse."

Scott peeks his head out of the entanglement of sheets and pillows and just stares into space for a minute. "Shit."

After that, all there is is Scott rushing to his feet, kissing Stiles on the cheek, stubble scraping his face, and then dashing down the stairs out the door. Before he leaves he shouts "I'll send someone to check on you!"

Downstairs, Stiles finds a couple of eggs and some bacon in the fridge and fries it up on the stove. There's some bread on the island that he toasts quickly. He sets out two plates on his dining table and two glasses of orange juice. After he finishes setting everything up, he notices Derek standing at the bottom of the stairs, staring at him.

Upon discovery, the man looks away. "Hey. Come sit." Stiles says with as much joy as the situation allowed.

Derek walks over cautiously, and stands in front of the table, where his food is placed.

Stiles kinda stares at the man. "Sit.."

He looks at him and then sits, his butt barely situated on the seat. Stiles raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.

"Eat." The man doesn't dare touch his food until Stiles lifts a spoonful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. They begin eating in silence, Derek eats like he's afraid there's glass in the eggs. Stiles takes note of that.

His studies showed that PTSD could range from just a few days .. to a few years. It all varied with person. And that amnesia wasn't as common, but possible. Accompanied by extreme psychological and physical abuse, memories could be subconsciously repressed. Some patients could easy recover in days or weeks, given the proper treatment and comfort. If Stiles could provide care and a healthy, positive environment, it would make Derek's memories come back smoother. But for now, Derek had an empty mind.

In other words, Stiles was stuck with a man who didn't act on his own and only expected pain or abuse on a daily basis. Derek basically is only acting upon instinct and what his mind 'thinks' is wrong or right. Quite obviously the woman who abused him .. treated him less than a dog.

A small part of him wants to admit Derek into the psychological wing of his hospital, so that he can recover conventionally.

But the larger part of him seriously wants to just take the sad little wolf-man into his arms and glue the pieces back together himself. Well, at least until his memories were back. It felt like he owed the man something, like it was his responsibility to fix him.

There was also the fact that Stiles had this strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. That turning in Derek into proper officials was the wrong move, at least not until he knew everything about the situation. It was impossible to know the right decision to make at this moment, but Stiles always opted to follow his instincts. Hopefully, his curiosity doesn't fail him this time.

The clink of a fork against an empty plate attracts Stiles' attention. Derek is staring at him again, green eyes roaming across his face, searching for something.

"Do you want more? I can make some.

The man shakes his head once. Stiles is unsure if the man is refusing because he's full or because hes scared, but he doesn't push the subject. He does try and get some answers though.

"So, do you remember anything yet? Birthday? Where you live? Maybe if you have a pet cat or something?"

Stiles momentarily pictures Derek with a grumpy looking fat cat. They could be grumpy together.

It takes a few seconds for Derek to find his voice. "No."

"It'll probably take a while." Derek shows him an annoyed look, frankly Stiles is happy to see another emotion that isn't depressed or scared.

"It's like there is a hole in my mind. When I close my eyes, I don't see anything." His eyes are lost, his fist slowly clenches and unclenches.

"You'll remember bud." Stiles attempts to reassure the man.

"Okay." Is all he gets.

The good news was that Derek was less shaky than last night, he wasn't in the fight mode, scared of everything and anything. He was somewhat stable now, albeit the random flinching and strange habits.

Stiles looks at the man and can tell he is trying to figure things out himself. He could only imagine what disasters were materializing inside his brain. He decides to pry, maybe it will jostle some memories. For some reason, Stiles can feel a lot of pain coming.

"Can I ask a question?"

Derek looks up at him with an uncertain looks, he rests his elbows on the table and interlocks his fingers. "I probably wont have an answer."

He asks anyways. "Why .. why did you ask if I was your new master?"

And as he predicted, Derek's face becomes pale again. Like the moon had melted into his pores, like he had never had a taste of the sun in his entire life. A mix of fear and anxiety rises from his expression. The gold flecks in his eyes dissipate, leaving behind a halo of hurt.

Stiles rises from his chair to go comfort the man, but the moment his feet touch the ground, Derek pushes his chair back and rushes to the floor, like lightning, he kneels on the ground beside him.

Stiles quickly scrambles onto the floor on one knee and holds the mans face with one hand. Derek cringes, expecting a slap, he looks up at him with those puppy eyes. He is surprised no pain follows. "Hey. Hey." Derek looks back and forth across the planes of his face. "Why do you keep doing that?"

The question knocks the man out of the trance, but he is still bearing that look. It's like Derek doesn't understand what he asked. Or he doesn't know how to answer it.

Stiles wraps both his hands on the man's bicep and rises.

He walks to the living room and sits on the couch. Derek follows, but just stands there and stares at him. He tells the man to sit, and he does .. on the ground.., causing Stiles to sigh heavily and clarify that he meant on the couch.

Whoever this bitch was, she was cold, so very very cold. What kind of demented and malicious person does this to someone? How else would Derek know only to sit on the floor? Or to only eat after the 'master' ate? Or to fall to his knees whenever the 'master' even moved? .. Or to only expect pain? When Stiles finds out who she is, she will feel the wrath of whoever Stiles can get his hands on.

"Answer my question." He asks, anger in his voice quite obvious. He can feel the blood boiling under his skin. His jaw clenches and unclenches, frankly he just wanted to ram his fists into the wall over and over again. He hated seeing anyone in pain. But this? This pain was intentional. Someone did this to Derek. Someone wanted Derek to be hurt. What pain was worse than that?

Derek starts to tremble a little bit, mouth quivering just a slight.

"I-" He starts. "She told me to call her master, and only master."

"But I am not her." Stiles says, even more rage in his tongue.

"She .." He shakes a little more. "Told me I was just a possession. An object. And an object must have a master."

How badly did she have to hurt him in order for Derek to follow these 'rules'? How hard did she engrave these commands into his skull? He feels like vomiting. He feels like throwing up each and every word Derek has just fed him.

Stiles is off his seat in the couch so quick, he feels dizzy from the sudden movement.

He isn't sure if it's his job as a doctor, or if it's because he feels like Derek is the most broken person on Earth, but there are planets in his bones, that gravitate around Derek. That force him to care for the man he barely even knew. In the back of his mind, he hopes its because he's a doctor.

Derek flinches at Stiles sudden movement, obviously bracing himself for a strike.

When all he gets is two hands cradling his face, he is immediately surprised. The man is rigid at first, like a block of ice. But then he lets out a breath that he was obviously holding for a very long time. Derek doesn't look him in the eye. He looks everywhere but at Stiles' eyes.

It is then that Stiles realizes that Derek thought he was mad .. at him. He was only shaking because he thought he had displeased Stiles.

He was afraid of being punished.

This was beyond fucked up. Had he said that already? Saying it a million times wouldn't be enough.

Stiles lets go and scoots away a little to give him some space. The man looks wounded from the loss of touch. "You don't have to worry anymore. You don't have to worry about her anymore. You're going to live here. As a human being. As a person. Until you regain your memories. And when you do, we will hunt her down and lock her up for good. My dad's the chief of police. My friends are police officers. I will do whatever it takes." He turns his head to look at Derek, who at this point looks like he's heard the craziest thing in the world. "Hey. Hey!"

The man looks at him, his eyes a thousand seas of deep green, and Stiles doesn't know what to do. He's bitten off more than he can chew. This man in-front of him, with the golden skin and the crestfallen eyes, he is broken, but Stiles is damaged goods too. How can someone incomplete make another feel whole again? What was he suppose to do? He was trained to fix broken bones, ripped skin, bleeding organs. He knew nothing about a broken heart.

"Fuck the monster who did these things to you." He says, just barely above a whisper. "She may have made you think that it was okay, and she may have broken you and made it feel right, but no one deserves that."

And that was the truth. Stiles isn't sure he knows what's he saying anymore, it's just coming straight from the knot in his chest.

"And I'm not mad at you."

Derek looks at him in the eyes this time. Somewhere in the craters of green .. there is relief.

"Go take a shower. I'll leave a change of clothes outside the door." Stiles say quietly. He doesn't mean for it to sound like a command, but Derek stands and leaves without even thinking.

Fucked up.

 

* * *

 

"How's your little friend?"

Stiles is on the balcony of the loft, it provides a clear view of the city and the hospital, and the forest in the far back.

He turns to see a strawberry blonde in her surgical scrubs, sliding the balcony doors closed. It had been hours after breakfast that morning. Lydia was presumably on her lunch break. Her lips are a wine red color, eyelashes curled above two hazel eyes. Being the head surgeon of cardio, it always amazed Stiles how Lydia found time to do her makeup. Something about 'you have to look your best, that's how patients feel like they are in good hands'. There was no doubt that Lydia was his smartest friend.

"He's resting." Stiles answers.

"How's his health?"

"Physically he will be healed in no time. His mind ..." Stiles doesn't know what to say, he's been trying to explain it to himself for the past few hours with no success. "He has no memories. He only remembers the woman who abused him."

It was all a mystery to him. Derek's case was something you'd write a novel about, something you'd see in the movies marked 'based on a true story'.

Lydia stands close to him, her hair in a braided up-do, a few strands river down her head. She isn't one to comfort, but Stiles knows what she is implying with her body movements. "Have you thought about the fact that maybe she is the only thing he knows?"

He thinks about it, but quickly shakes his head. "I know it's not. He has a life. He just doesn't remember it."

"You can't keep him here forever Stiles." She was always right, no matter how wrong things felt.

"I will until he has somewhere to go, hell, until he knows who he is, at least." At this point, you'd have to physically tear Derek out of his fingers to take him away.

There is a small silence between them, as they stand over the city. Cars move across asphalt, people walk across concrete, the clouds move across the sky. The world is moving, but Stiles feels like he's been in the same spot all of his life.

"I had a patient last summer. Erica Reyes. She was kidnapped, tortured. Nasty wounds both to her body and to her mind. It got so bad that she didn't remember anything, nothing at all. She only knew the man that abducted her, the long time she spent with him. The guy who took her, convinced her mind that that was what life was. He convinced her that he was the sun, and she was forever orbited around him. A strange case of Stockholm syndrome."

Stiles can tell that it was a hard patient for Lydia, the way she bites her lower lip, and the way she tilts her head slightly, looking off into blank space hardly blinking.

"What happened after that?"

She looks at him, with her eyes wide and empty. "She regained her memories. She returned to her old life, slowly, but she did. But those habits of hers, the scars from her kidnapping, they never faded completely. I visited her quite recently. She still hyperventilates when she is in a dark, enclosed space, and she doesn't wear necklaces or bracelets anymore. But other than that, she is her old self, the only way you could tell she was hurt, was if she told you herself. She was the same, but she was different. She never really trusted anyone after that. Well, except for me, and her loved ones."

Lydia was amazing, a true inspiration for Stiles. The way she dealt with patients, the care and passion she'd carry in her fingers, in her words, Lydia was absolutely amazing.

"What do you think is going to happen here?" He has to ask her, he has to some kind of answer. And Lydia always had the answers. His mind had a thousand questions, a thousand stars he can't seem to connect. It rattles him, not knowing how something works. As a doctor, he knows everything about a body, how it works, how it lives. This? This he didn't understand.

"I think that depends on you, Stiles. The way a wound heals is extremely important, you should know that by now. Care for him, and he will recover. I have little doubt that you are best for him. When he remembers everything, his personality will return, but so will the entire onslaught of his captivity. You must be there to help him through it. You are a damn good doctor, but an even better friend."

He nods, feeling pride and happiness swell up inside his lungs, they pump every breath with warmth.

"If you ever tell anyone I said that, I will deny it through my teeth."

Stiles laughs at that. She always knew the right things to say. But there was still one thing still in the corner of his mind.

"Lydia, why did you tell me to take him to the hospital yesterday?"

She doesn't have to think too long to answer. "Because I knew you would do this. And I know this may rip open old wounds."

Stiles can feel the familiar twinge of pain surge through his veins.

"I will-"

"-Be okay. I've heard you say it before Stiles. And I believe you."

Somehow, Stiles doubts that, but Lydia doesn't lie to him. Or to anyone, actually.

"But if you can't for some reason, you have your friends."

Her pager beeps, and Stiles knows what that meant. She reads it and frowns.

"I-"

"Have to go, I know." He finishes her statement. "Go save some lives Lydia. And thank you."

She squeezes his hand softly and walks away.

 

* * *

 

After about another ten minutes or so of just standing outside and watching the clouds drift by, he begins to feel uneasy, tired of being in one spot for so long.

Derek is at the bottom of the staircase when Stiles reenters the loft. The man quickly looks at the floor and his knees begin to bend.

"Don't. Even think about it." Derek eyes snap up to look at him, lips pouting slightly.

"We need to go over some house rules." He says. If this is going to happen, it has to happen right. Stiles walks over to Derek and looks at him square in the eyes. The taller man has an uneasy look on. "Until you regain your memories these are the rules. 1. Do not get on your knees. Unless you are .. Never mind. Just stop getting on your knees. 2. You can eat whenever and whatever you want. You don't have to wait for me to eat first, but that won't be a problem because I am always eating."

Derek looks like he wants to say something, but doesn't.

Stiles continues. "3. You can talk whenever you want. You can ask for whatever you want. You can say whatever you want." The man looks confused. "Hell, I will be happy if you curse me out, okay? Just say something."

Stiles looks at him expectingly.

"Okay." Is all he gets, but that's enough for now.

"4. When I say get ready for bed, I don't mean for you to have sex with me."

That obviously brings unpleasant memories to Derek, as his face washes with fear, his eyes become dark. Stiles feels bad for bringing up something like that, but that just turns into anger. Not only did this lady hurt him .. she used him sexually.

For a second, Stiles wonders what kind of leverage the woman had on him. Derek looked like he could defend himself from a shark and a bear at the same time. Whoever she was, she was manipulative. Rage starts to melt him inside out. He tries his best to push away the negative emotion, so it doesn't scare the man again.

"What I'm trying to say, is that the life you were living .. that's over now. Do whatever the hell you want."

"Why are you doing this? Why do you care?" Stiles feels a little hurt from the man's quiet outburst. He knows Derek isn't used to any form of kindness, but still, his chest knots a little.

"I don't know." Because, honestly, he didn't. This was just all 'act-first-think-later', he was just doing whatever felt right, following his gut.

Derek is back in his own thoughts again. Lydia's words echo in his mind. Derek only knows the life he had before. It wasn't going to be easy learn a new one.

Which begs the question. "How long? How long were you .."

The two words seem to stab Derek right in the chest. "I don't know."

Stiles is grateful. He doesn't think he could've handled the answer anyways.

 

* * *

 

Later that night, after they eat Chinese takeout that Isaac brings over, Stiles prepares for bed and a day of work again. He relinquishes his room for Derek, settling for the guest bedroom. The man seemed to like Stiles' bed, he asked him if he could stay there, to which Stiles accepted. At this point, if Derek asked for his life savings, Stiles would probably give it to him.

Before he goes to sleep, he checks on the man again.

"Take off your shirt for me?" Stiles asks, voice low as he stands in his own room, Derek sitting on the bed.

The man visibly shudders, skin paling slowly, eyes searching for something in his hardwood floor. He shuts his eyes and nods. The man grabs the hems of his shirt and lifts slowly. "Yes, sir."

Stiles immediately realizes his mistakes, and rushes to the floor in front of Derek, kneeling on one leg, in between his knees, so he can look up at Derek. He places two fingers on the man's chin. Stiles notices that the only way to really get the man's attention is through touch. He reacted towards warmth much better than through Stiles yelling 'hey' over and over.

"Hey, hey. I just need to check your wounds." He feels like he's talking to a toddler, and it's ironic because Derek is so far from being a toddler.

His expression changes entirely, the fear evaporating like Stiles' fingers have the sun in their touch. Derek nods and slips off his shirt smoothly this time. He watches each and every move of Stiles' fingers as they change the bandages of the more serious injuries.

Stiles can feel his face pinken from Derek's attention. And it is strange, because he deals with patients like this almost all day. Maybe it's the proximity of Derek. Or the ghost of his breath against Stiles' skin. Or how warm his skin feels, how smoothly it flexes under Stiles' touch.

The man notices it. "Are you okay?" And that is the first question Derek ever asks regarding Stiles.

"Yea." He can feel the tips of his ears flush as well. "And don't call me sir. I told you my name is Stiles."

"Stiles."

He looks up, not expecting Derek's face so close to his. For a second, he drowns in eye that are a kaleidoscope of greens and gold. He promptly falls onto his butt with a thud, and then scrambles to his feet.

"You're healing is good." The man has a blank expression on, like he is trying to figure out Stiles. "I'm working tomorrow. I know you don't need a babysitter, but Scott and Isaac will be over. They can be a little crazy an idiotic, but try and deal until I get back."

He hates telling Derek to do things, because that's probably all the mans been hearing for who knows how long.

Before he leaves, Derek says something just a little above a whisper.

"Thank you. Stiles."

He turns around to see Derek staring at him.

"Don't mention it bud."

In the hallway, he can feel Derek's eyes on his back, he can feel his cheeks burn like the first day of summer.

 


	3. Normality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving. Will be posting multiple chapters today! Apologies again to my previous readers.

You could say Stiles was a little nervous that Derek was under the care of his two best friends. But it wasn't without good reason.

One time back in highschool, Scott went out and bought like twenty fish after he and Allison got into a fight and temporarily broke up. He named them all Allison with a different number. The idiot forgot to feed them, and it turns out Allison number 17 was a cannibal so it ate the rest of the other Allisons. It was kind of a nightmare.

And years ago, Isaac had a dog named biscuits once. Real cute, small with curly hair. He dyed the fur hot pink and it got lost a week later. They never found it and Isaac is convinced it got abducted by a pack of wolves, and that it was being raised to be a viscous killer.

To he honest, Stiles had the right to be nervous.

He was nervous all day. And after hours of standing in the OR and four surgeries, he didn't really expect to come home to a quiet loft. There was no trace of his troublemaker best friends, but there was a sticky note on his fridge.

It was messy and colorful like a bunch of preschoolers wrote it:

"We took care of Der'. Oh and we are like best friends now. Are you jealous? :P Took his medicine, ate a bunch of junk food, and watched chick flicks. Best bro-date ever. Had to leave a little early, but Derek is resting from the medicine. Leftover pizza in fridge for you. -Scott and Isaac" with a little ugly heart. Stiles can tell the two fought over who got to write the note because the words get messy and the pen color changes from black to blue.

In the margin in small font, Scott scribbles 'You need more food.'

He rolls his eyes and then slips the leftover pizza into the microwave.

"Derek?" He says loudly. There's no immediate reply, so he goes looking around.

He finds Derek in his bed, and once Stiles enters the room, he can immediately tell something was very, very wrong.

Derek was shifting and turning in his sleep. He is constantly fisting the sheets like the threads are chained to his hands, his breathing is quick like the room is collapsing on him. He mutters things under his breath, but Stiles can't make out the words, they sound so heavy but so gentle at the same time. They begin to sound like groans, sounds of pain, and desperate cries, so Stiles quickly makes his way to the edge of the bed, trying to provide any comfort he can.

"Derek?" He whispers softly. "Wake up Derek." Stiles holds the mans face in his palms, trying to steady him. "You're having a nightmare."

His fingers trace a circle on Derek's cold cheek. The man's face is pale under the moonlight, a thin layer of sweat on his skin. "Please. Kate." He moans, fists clenched in the bed sheets, his veins swelling from the pressure. Stiles sets the name 'Kate' away in his head for now and focuses on waking Derek.

"Hey, wake up!" He shouts, shaking the man.

The slight movement finally wakes Derek, causing the man to jolt upwards and shove Stiles off of the bed abruptly, throwing him onto the hardwood floor. There is a loud slam as he lands on top of Stiles, two hands pin Stiles' arms down, and they collide with a painful crash onto the ground.

Stiles yells loudly in pain from the shock. The pain shifts his vision for a second, and his head begins to ache. The shock lasts for awhile, running through his spine like lightning bolts. After he recovers from the blow and blinks the blurriness away, he opens his eyes to see a very scared Derek.

It takes the man a couple of seconds to actually wake up and see that he was painfully pinning Stiles into the ground, straddling his hips. Worry and fear clouds the mans eyes, and he intakes a shaky breath.

"Stiles." He whispers

"Hey bud..." Stiles groans, pain still pounding harshly in his head.

"I.." His voice is shaky and thin, like there was a storm raging inside of his chest.

"You're heavy." Stiles whispers, seeing the panic swimming through the mans eyes, they darken them so deeply.

Derek quickly gets off and carefully helps him stand up. Stiles checks himself for any blood, but there is just a small bump on the back of his head that stings with touch.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Derek mutters softly, with his signature look. The sad stare, bowed head, and empty voice. Like someone waiting to be punished.

Stiles steps closer to the man and places a hand on his neck, trying to rub his thumb in a calming motion. It seems to work, as the man loosens slightly, the green returning in his eyes.

"It's okay, it doesn't hurt." He says. The other man's eyes trace Stiles' face, his mouth opens, but no words escape. Stiles can't help but stare at his lips, as they quiver just slightly. He can't help but stare at the man's chiseled jaw, as it is slack and fallen. "It's okay." He repeats.

This surprises Derek. The moonlight that whispers through his sheer curtain shines softly on him. His eyelashes cast a small shadow onto those hurt eyes. "You're lying." He says, and then his eyebrows furrow.

"It was an accident." He can feel Derek's rapid heartbeat through his neck. It races like water at the mouth of a river. It matches his own.

"But it wasn't. I wanted to hurt you." He says it like venom on his tongue, like it pains him to admit it.

"You didn't mean too." Stiles doesn't know exactly why, but the name 'Kate' continues to echo in his mind..

"I .. Thought you were her." These words weigh heavy on him like anchors against his body. He looks down onto the floor where Stiles is standing, like he hopes to find reprieve there.

"Yea. I know." He tries to remove his hand from Derek's jaw, but then the man places his hand on top of his, holding it in place. Derek's breathing is shallow, but sharp at the same time, his fingers tremble on top of Stiles'. He is afraid. Warm, and cold at the same time.

Stiles doesn't know what causes him to do it, but his bones feel crippled just watching Derek physically need his touch. Watching Derek physically need some kind of warmth.

So he steps directly in front of the man, even closer so that their breaths entwine, so that their bodies are connected. Stiles leans in and wraps two arms around Derek's neck, his face burying into the crook of the mans neck. He can smell an earthy musk scent radiating from Derek's skin. He can feel the toxic warmth and hard muscle through their clothes. His lips are placed softly on the man's neck, like a snowflake waiting to melt. And it's likes his breathing stops.

They stay like that for a few minutes, Stiles holding Derek in his arms, afraid that he can't hold all of the pieces together, afraid that if he lets go, Derek will disappear into the fine cracks of the floor. He starts to pull away, but then Derek wraps his arms around Stiles' waist, holding him tighter, fingers gripping bruises into his hips. Derek's warmth is starving, it sinks into his skin and spreads like wildfire. There was no summer that felt warmer than his touch, no sun that could take up every inch like Derek's fingers.

"Derek?"

"Please." He says, his chin resting in Stiles' hair. "Just stay." He lowers his head so that his nose dips in Stiles' mess of hair. The man hugs him even tighter. "Stay."

And he does, letting the wildfire swallow his bones all at once.

 

* * *

 

They don't speak about their hour long hug for the rest of the week, but Stiles often feels the other mans eyes on him when he is turned around. And there are lingering looks when Derek thinks he isn't paying attention, but he does notice.

Not only that, but there is a different atmosphere to the man, like he is slowly changing, slowly healing. He definitely wasn't the same man as the days before, he was better. Not yet healed or normal, but he was trying to be, to the best of his ability.

After a silent and quick breakfast, Stiles unexpectedly finds Danny and Jackson at his front door, both in their police uniforms.

He invites them both in, and they stand around his kitchen island while Stiles serves them a cup of freshly brewed coffee. The new scent consumes the entire loft, hazelnut and cocoa lathered against the walls.

Both officers are looking at Derek, Jackson with his jerk face look, and Danny with a sympathetic frown. "We came to ask you some questions." Jackson says with a scowl.

"And .. to introduce ourselves." Danny clears his throat at Jackson. "I'm Officer Danny Mahealani, and this is my partner Officer Jackson Whittemore. Stiles has .. placed you under our private care until your memories come back." Derek says nothing, just watches the two officers. "It would help if you could answer our questions to the best of your ability."

"Do you remember anything about the woman who took you?" Jackson asks first, his voice cold as ever. Danny raises an eyebrow at his best friend, but doesn't say anything.

Derek freezes up a bit, obviously because of the sensitive subject. Stiles moves to stand a bit closer to the man, edging a tad nearer to the corner of the island where Derek stands. It seems to work, as the tension is eased.

"No."

Jackson makes a soft scoff. Danny shoots the blonde an angry look and then looks back at Derek. "What can you tell us then?"

"It's blurry. I try to remember, but it's broken up. It's coming back to me, but in different pieces. I can't give a full story until it all comes back." Derek looks lost in thought, trying to piece together the puzzle in his head. He then glances at Stiles with eyes heavy like the ocean. They share this eye contact for a few seconds.

Jackson takes note of this and grabs Stiles' arm and points his head towards the stairs. "Can I talk to you Stilinski? In private?"

He doesn't really have much choice because Jackson is pulling him away with an iron grip. He spares Derek a glance who looks like he doesn't want Stiles to leave.

When they are at the foot of the staircase Jackson softly leans Stiles onto the wall and steps close to him. The man smells off expensive cologne, it is intoxicating.

"Are you okay?" He asks simply. There is worry in the corner of his eyes.

Stiles gives him a confused look. "What? Yes. Why wouldn't I be Jacks?"

Jackson is then searching his body for any injuries, patting his clothes, lifting his shirt, hands roaming on his neck and shoulders. Stiles swats the blondes hands away, glad that he didn't check his head.

His friend looks hurt or annoyed by Stiles' resistance. "I'm fine Jackson." He lies, but it is white.

"Just making sure you aren't hurt. Who knows what that weirdo is capable of."

"Jackson!" He scolds in a whisper. "Derek is the victim here. He hasn't hurt me. He's the one with a million injuries if you hadn't noticed."

The blonde gives him the angry eyebrows and cold blue eyes. "He could be like those fucking bastards. I won't risk another fucking chance agai-"

His heart is pounding now, his face begins to get hot, and his skin prickles like needles are stabbing him. Dryness gathers in his throat as painful memories begin to flood into his skull. Jackson notices his reaction and looks away in apologies.

He was never good at physical comfort anyways.

"Jackson." Stiles takes one hand and squeezes his tricep. "I'm okay. Derek is okay. I'm not hurt. I'm. Okay." The blonde scoffs, scratching the back of his head.

Jackson was always protecting him after high school, always keeping Stiles in the corner of his eye, making sure he was okay. He didn't care what anyone said, if someone messed with Stiles, the blonde would threaten to run them over with his porsche. Ever since Stiles reached out to him, Jackson was changed. But after he got hurt, Jackson never let Stiles out of sight again. Stiles knew that the blonde thought he owed something to him. That it was his fault or whatever. He always acted cold on the outside, but Stiles knew him better than that.

One time they got drunk on New Years and Jackson told him he was sorry he wasn't there to protect him before. He also said he was going to police academy because of Stiles. Stiles had changed the man, for the better. He used to be a true jerk, didn't care about anyone or anything but himself.

That same blonde looks at him now like he's afraid Stiles is about to disappear.

"How do you want me to prove it Jacks?"

"I don't need you to prove anything. I just want you to know if that guy does anything to harm you at all, you better fucking tell me. I'll have the SWAT, FBI, CIA, the secret service, whoever the fuck it takes."

"Jackson.." He says, drawing out the 'n' in his name. "I know Jacks. I know. Now stop being such a grump."

"I am not a grump."

"Then smile."

"No."

"I know where your tickle spot is!"

"Don't touch me Stilinski, I have a taser." And just like that, they were back to normal. They would always go back to normal, that's what Stiles loved about their relationship.

Jackson looks away from him, and leads them back to the kitchen, after he is fully convinced that Stiles is in perfect health.

When they reenter Danny gives him a worried look, but Stiles reassures him with a nod.

"Okay. We're gonna go. We have morning duty."

Stiles nods. "Okay, thanks for dropping by."

"Call me if he remembers anything." He says to Stiles.

Jackson gives him a long stare, and Danny leaves with a pat on his back.

 

* * *

 

When they are gone, Stiles turns his attention to Derek, who seems relieved by the officers leaving, but still a little lost in thought.

"You're remembering stuff?"

He gets a slow nod.

"That's good. That means your memory will start coming together. Then we can finally sort this out." Things were slowly getting better. Slowly, being the key word. It was better than nothing.

He could only imagine the stress inside Derek's mind at this moment. Different memories flooding in from different times. It was overwhelming. Something like that could easily ruin a person, easily cause them to fall to frustration and depression. It was important that Stiles provided proper care at a time like this, or Derek would heal improperly. It was his job to relieve the stress, help in any way he could.

"Why didn't you tell me you were remembering stuff?" Derek looks surprised by the question. Stiles forgets that the man wasn't used to opening up to anyone.

"It doesn't matter until everything comes back." Then he looks ashamed, eyes shifting away.

"It does matter! You don't have to keep things to yourself anymore. Tell me things. Whatever you want. It'll help with the process, and it'll make me feel like I'm actually helping you. "

Another nod.

"So how have you been sleeping?" He begins to wash the cups, talking over his shoulder.

"Good." Is all he gets. He does notice the tips of Derek's ears slightly flush. Stiles easily assumes that Derek was thinking about their little encounter earlier that week. Was the man embarrassed by his actions? Stiles wouldn't blame him if he was, so he says nothing of the matter.

"Would it kill you to say more than two words in a sentence" Stiles asks, putting the four cups on the drying rack. "By now you should realize I'm actually a very nice person, despite my devilish good looks."

He waits for the laugh at his joke.

It doesn't come.

"Talk to me dude." He says, wiping his hands on a rag.

"I'm sorry. I've just been thinking."

He walks to the island and leans over, with his elbows on the counter. "Well then you think too much. Just go with the flow."

Derek has an unreadable look. "Is he your boyfriend?" His voice sounds annoyed.

The question catches him off guard."W-what?" He gives the man a confused look. "Who?"

Derek looks down at the marble counter top, fingers drawing imaginary swirls.

Stiles assumes he means Danny. "Dan? Well .." His mind wonders off somewhere, trying to properly answer the question. ".. We did kiss once at Lydia's birthday party ages ago, but I don't think that really counts.. And I think he used to stare at my ass back in high school .. but I don't think that counts either."

Hearing this seems to disappoint the man. "No." He says through his teeth, frowning. "I meant the mean cop. The one with the pointy jaw."

Stiles laughs at that. "Pointy jaw. Good one, I think I might use that."

The man looks impatient. "Is he?"

"Why would you think that? If anything you should think we are mortal enemies with the way we are fighting all the time." He pictures dating Jackson. Chills promptly follow the thought.

"The way he looks at you. And the way he touches you. " Derek mutters, eyes sharp, lips fallen into a frown.

The way he looks at him? The way he touches him? Had Derek been thinking about it all this time? Was Derek watching him closer than he thought?

"No. He's a good friend. He looks like a jerk on the outside but honestly he's a big softie. He cares a lot for me, it's ridiculous. Like I can't even go to the club with any skin besides my face showing or he'd have a fit. He's a girl secretly."

"Oh." Then Derek goes back to his thought.

"Hey! Stop doing that. The 'Lets-shut-stiles-out' thing.' Talk to me."

After a small pause, "You kissed the good cop?"

Why was Derek asking these questions? Had it seemed like he was dating either of the two boys? Stiles was a friendly, touchy person. He loved basically everyone, especially his friends. Maybe Derek interpreted his intimacy the wrong way.

"Danny. And yes. We were kind of tipsy. It was sloppy, but also kinda .. great. I don't think he remembers, but I don't think I dated any girls after that.."

Derek frowns, with his little grumpy face on. Grumpy pouting face. "Oh." He hisses through the slits in his teeth.

"So no. I'm not dating good or bad cop." Stiles says with a sigh.

He replies quick this time. "They seem to like you."

"I'd hope so. They've been my friends since forever. Speaking of that, I do need to properly introduce you to all my friends."

There is another pause, in which stiles pours another healthy amount of coffee. The hazelnut flavor feels like heaven as it washes down his throat.

"Do you like them?"

Stiles chokes on his coffee, spitting it back in his cup. "W-what?"

"You told me to talk. I'm trying to talk."

For a second, he wants to argue, but then he realizes that this was good. "Okay, yeah you're right. And I like them both as friends. Jackson wouldn't last three seconds dating me, he'd probably go mad and return me to my dad. And Danny has this weird kink that I don't feel comfortable talking about."

"So..."

"So I'm single."

And then Derek does something Stiles hasn't seen yet. He blushes. It starts at the back of his neck and at the tip of his ears. It's honestly absolutely adorable.

"Are you .. blushing?"

Derek frowns and looks away, like he was just caught doing something embarrassing. "Hell no." His body seems to tense, eyebrows furrowing.

"How adorable!" Stiles coos, getting all sparkly-eyed.

"Shut it Stiles."

"This is too cute! Where's my phone?" He digs in his pocket just in time for Derek to start protesting. Due to his past experience with black mail and pictures of his best friends, this was easy. He snaps a good ten shots before Derek is chasing him down like a mad wolf. They run up and down the stairs, out the balcony, living room, kitchen, back up the stairs again, guest room, master room, and back down the stairs.

They run through the entire loft a couple of times, knocking things over and tripping over stuff. It takes a good ten minutes before Derek catches him, grabbing him by the legs as they collapse on the living room floor. He crawls over Stiles body and straddles his hips, pinning him efficiently onto the carpet. He grabs the phone and deletes the photo. Of course, by that time, Stiles has uploaded it onto three different places, texted it to his friends, and also set it as his screen saver.

Stiles is laughing with tears on the edge of his eyelids, he can barely breathe under Derek, but he's too weak to throw the man off. He laughter finally dies down and he wipes the tears from his eyes.

His phone vibrates in Derek's hands, probably a reply from one of his friends.

The man reads it and then his eye twitches. "You .. sent it to other people!?" He shouts, leaning down to pin Stiles hands above his head. His grumpy face is priceless.

There is a silence as Stiles realizes the closeness of Derek's face to his. His heavy breaths as they ghost on the edges of his eyelashes, on his cheekbones. And the depth of his eyes was unimaginable, Stiles could feel himself drowning when there was no water.

Apparently, Derek notices it too, because the tips of his ears become pink, a flush climbing up his neck.

"Gee Derek, if I knew getting close to you would get you hot and bothered, I would've done it awhile ago." Stiles teases, feeling Derek's addictive warmth begin to migrate on his skin. He'd was beginning to get a hard-on from the closeness, and was glad Derek wasn't fully sitting down to feel it.

What Stiles says catches Derek off guard, leaving Stiles an opening to escape. He crawls up from under the man's grips and quickly dashes for the stairs.

"STILES!" is all he can hear before running to his room and locking it.

 

* * *

 

Stiles decides to take a long, long cold shower to get rid of his 'little' big problem that was pitching a large tent in his pants.

After his shower, he exits the safety of his room to see that Derek was also taking a shower.

He takes this time to make the two of them lunch, something he was accustomed too ever since he was younger. It was something him and his mother had in common, something he picked up when bonding with her. His mom was big on cooking home meals that were healthy. His dad never got away with eating junk food, even when he came home late from work. Stiles took up making meals after his mother passed, thinking it was what his mom would have wanted. He doesn't think his dad would've ate junk food anyways, probably a tribute to mom.

His fridge was mostly empty, but he had enough ingredients to make one of his favorite meals: smoked salmon and scrambled eggs. It was more like a brunch, but he didn't have any lunch ingredients, so he settles. After putting everything to cook, he made a mental note to make a trip to the store.

Derek makes his way downstairs while Stiles is plating the food. He can't help but smirk as the man walks over to him. He looks over at that the grumpy man.

His skin looks soft, hair wet and tousled. He was wearing Stiles' clothes still. He leans over the breakfast bar, arms crossed, watching Stiles work. He looks amused.

"What?" He says, frowning.

"After lunch, I got to drop by the store to pick up some food. And then the mall to get some clothes for you. You must feel uncomfortable wearing my clothes."

Derek looks away from him. "No. It's okay."

"You can't wear that forever. I'll take you after we eat if that's okay?"

The man looks reluctant. When was the last time Derek had been outside?

Stiles places the two plates on the table and sits, Derek following and sitting across from him. They begin eating, and Stiles notices that Derek doesn't need prompting anymore, he just picks up his fork and knife and chews.

"You don't have to come, y'know, I'll just come back with pretty pink clothes and you'll just wear that." He teases.

This easily makes Derek smile. "In your dreams. I'll go."

"Okay. We can go after we eat lunch, outrunning you got me totally hungry."

Stiles gets an even wider smile, a toothy grin that reveals .. dimples. He feels that stupid butterfly feeling you'd get in junior high school, the one you'd get when seeing your crush from afar.

"Hey, I caught you! And- .. Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Huh? Like what?" He shakes his head. Derek gives him a raised eyebrow.

"Like I'm lunch."

He feels a blush creeping on his cheeks. "S-shut up and eat your fish." That gets him a smirk. He frowns and shoves a spoonful of eggs in his mouth.

They eat lunch with Stiles trying to look anywhere but at Derek. He feels the other mans eyes on him the whole time, but focuses only on the salmon. Just the salmon. Because heavens forbid if he started to think about the extremely hot, stubbled, chiseled Adonis with the dimples and muscles across the table ..

Salmon. Just salmon.

"Putting a lot of focus in the fish there, Stiles. "

His knife stabs his plate hard. He bites his lower lip and scowls, but says nothing, just cuts harder.

"Want me to help you cut it?" Derek teases. And of course it works, his ears get a little hot. Since when did Derek know how to tease Stile effectively?!

He shoves the rest of the meal in his mouth, chews harshly, and swallows it all down.

"Hey! You know what? I'm leaving you. Going to buy you a bunny costume." He says throwing his plate and utensils in the sink. He grabs a jacket and his keys and marches to the door, not sparing Derek a glance.

Yes he was throwing a princess temper tantrum and he didn't care.

Before he can make it out the door Derek grabs his arm.

Stiles looks back with a frown to see a puppy dog pout.

"Sorry." Derek says with a solemn voice, eyes this venomous green, lips frowning, eyebrows low.

Suddenly he feels like crap.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm sorry for acti-" Was he..? "ARE YOU LAUGHING!?"

The man was smiling! With the dimples! And the white teeth and cute as hell stubble. SMILING!

He hated Derek.

"I hate you." He says angrily throwing his temper tantrum all the way down stairs to his car.

His steps are loud and obnoxious but he doesn't care because Derek was trailing behind him smirking like he was cute or something. Which he wasn't. He stomps all the way to his jeep, pulls the door open and slams it shut.

Derek climbs into the passenger side and just stares at him. And Stiles can feel the grin on the mans face without even looking at him.

Stiles sits slumped in the drivers seat, arms crossed and face sour.

"Stiles."

He pouts and turns to the window.

"I'm sorry for teasing! I thought you would appreciate me acting different.."

He pauses the princess temper tantrum and thinks about it. It was true. Derek had surprisingly acted really different. He was teasing. Smiling. Laughing. ..Blushing? For a minute, Stiles forgot that Derek was in any way injured at all. Derek was carrying himself like a regular person.

"Okay, fine, I do. I do appreciate you acting all normal and amicable and stuff."

How did Derek do it? Just last week he didn't even know up from down, and now he was acting like he was normal? There was no way Derek would'be recovered so quickly.

How?

It does takes him a second, but then he realizes the man was trying as hard as he could to make Stiles feel .. better. He was trying his hardest to make Stiles feel like he was actually doing something.

"You said you wanted to feel like you were helping." The man says quietly.

"I didn't mean for you to force yourself to be happy."

"Stiles."

He uncrosses his arms, turns his body, and looks at Derek.

"I'm not forcing myself to be happy."

"But-"

"Yea. I'm still scared as shit because I don't know what the hell is going on. I don't know who I am yet, at least, not all of me. I don't know what is going to happen. I don't know when it will happen. I don't know when I'm going to finally be able to breathe. I don't know what to feel, how to feel. I'm scared as hell, Stiles. But I do know, while I'm here, with you, things are .. better. When I close my eyes, I see her, I feel her, I feel pain and fear. But then you walk near and then I feel .. better. I'm not forcing myself to be happy, Stiles. You help me breathe."

Stiles doesn't even know if he's breathing himself or not. He just knows that his heart is pounding against his rib cage so loudly even the soles of his feet feel it. And it's like all of the seasons are inside him at once, rooting deep inside his bones. He tries to understand what Derek just said, trying to get that Derek is trying to say thank you in his strange way.

Derek is saying that Stiles is making him feel better, but why did it feel like Derek was the one making Stiles feel better?

He sits there, mouth agape, eyes remembering every line on Derek's face without even knowing. It isn't until Derek calls his name again does he realize he hadn't said anything.

"I hope you like pink clothes." Is his reply, before he starts the car and drives off.


	4. Fixing

"Stiles. I've tried on half the store." Derek groans as he leaves the dressing room for the tenth time.

It turns out Derek looks great in pink. And just about every other color of the rainbow, so Stiles' plan to ruin Derek's life is kind of a fail. In the end, he just picks out a bunch of clothes, shoves Derek into the dressing room, and makes him try them all on. Derek doesn't say much, he just moans and groans and calls Stiles a lunatic, but he stills tries on everything Stiles gives to him.

"Oh quit being a big baby." He replies after low-key checking out the man. He was wearing some above the knee shorts, which seemed to be the recent trend, and a button up with little anchors on it. The man filled the outfit perfectly. In fact, he had filled every outfit perfectly, his muscles easily outlined under each shirt. It was like the clothes were made just for him.

"Fine. Get changed while I ring up the clothes you've tried on." The man groans a loud ' _finally_ ' and drags himself back into the closet, like it's a gas chamber.

Stiles gathers the pile of clothes and brings it to the counter, trying to see over the stack, all the while feeling accomplished. He didn't really know what to expect, bringing Derek to the mall. He thought that the man would feel uncomfortable and uneasy being out and around a lot of people, but that wasn't the case. He seemed to be as normal as he could be, often looking around and taking in his surroundings. One thing Stiles did notice that was weird, was that Derek refused to be anywhere further than an arm-length away from Stiles. It was like he was an anchor to Derek, keeping him grounded. Stiles didn't say anything about the matter, he was just glad the man wasn't uncomfortable.

Derek was reluctant at first, when Stiles asked the man to take off his clothes and try on the things he picked out, but quickly agreed when Stiles threatened to take them off himself. It seemed that whatever the man put on, he wore it magnificently. Stiles didn't really have much taste in fashion, something Lydia would constantly remind him of, but it seemed to work out in the end.

When he lands all of the clothes on the counter, the clerk gives him a wide smile. "Did you find everything to be okay?" She had long brown hair, a cute red bandanna tying it up. Her eyes were adorned with semi-heavy makeup and she smelled like orange blossom.

"You could say that." Stiles laughs, gesturing to the large pile of clothes.

The brunette starts ringing up all of the clothes Stiles had picked for Derek.

She smiles, giving him a telling look and a blush. "If I'm allowed to say, you two are the cutest couple I have seen yet!"

Stiles chokes on his spit. "W-what?" His cheeks flush a little.

"Seriously!" She begins to scan the items, fold them, and take the magnet off of them one at a time. "And I see a lot of them too. This store is pretty popular with the couples."

He doesn't know what to say. "Do we look like a couple?" He says softly.

Now that he actually thinks about it, they kind of did look like a couple, with Derek always in his proximity, and how they bickered and teased each other.

The clerk nods her head and raises an eyebrow. "Heck yea! And I have to say, you scored a hottie. Killer smile, hot bod. I wish I had a boyfriend that looked like that! How did you do it?"

He blushes a little bit more, because he realizes that she was absolutely right. That Derek was totally hot. His wide, muscular chest, sculpted abs, strong and corded arms.

"Not saying that you're not a cutie yourself, that is. You are indeed a cutie. But still, give a girl some tips on how to get a man like that, please." She emphasizes the word please with a roll of her eyes while hugging a shirt she was folding.

He laughs a little. ' _You find him in the woods.'_  Stiles thinks to himself, grinning.

"Thank you. But we're not .. He's not .. We aren't together."

The girl looks surprised, giving him this wide eyed look as she scans the last couple of items. "Whaat!? Are you serious?!"

He nods, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment.

"Well what are you waiting for tiger? He's totally into you, I can tell by just looking at you two. He totally has heart eyes whenever you're near, and guess what?" She leans in and whispers. "I totally saw him checking out your ass earlier when you were turned around." Stiles feels his face burst into flames. His stomach flips under a heavily beating heart. Derek had been checking him out?

"Take it from a girl who has seen some real relationships."

Stiles doesn't know if he can flush any harder. He must've looked like someone slapped him in the face with a tomato.

The clerk smiles, putting all the stuff into some bags and totaling his price. Stiles swipes his card and signs his name. Before Stiles leaves, he thanks the girl. He doesn't really know what for, but he does. She just winks at him and says, "You better date him! Do it for the terribly single girls like me."

Stiles catches Derek walking towards him, hands tucked in his pocket, hair disheveled from taking off his shirt so many times. The longer Stiles stared, the harder it was too look away. When the man catches up with him, Stiles immediately tears his eyes away and walks out the store.

He can feel his cheek burn pink, and knew that it was obvious he was flustered. The last thing he needed was Derek teasing him about blushing like Stiles did before. He tries to pretend like he's looking at the various shops through the glass to avoid Derek, but the man easily knows somethings up when he refuses to look at his direction.

"Stiles." The man tries to look at him in the face, but Stiles dodges it.

"Hmm?" He begins to walk them to the cafe, he needed something to cool himself down.

"What's with your face?" He sounds a lot like Jackson, alarmingly.

"It's beautiful, that's what." Stiles says, trying to pick up the pace with some subtlety.

"Why won't you look at me?" The man sounds a little disappointed.

He bites his lower lip. Was this karma? "I don't know what you're talking about"

"Stiles."

He rolls his eyes and walks a little faster.

They get in line at the mini cafe in the mall, the one with the amazing pastries Stiles loves. He tries to focus on the wide display glass of baked goods, and the heavenly smell of coffee, but Derek's proximity is a little distracting. He tries to step away a bit, pretending to look at the overhead menu, but Derek follows him.

"Was it something I did?" For a moment, the man sounds genuinely worried.

"No. Do you want anything?"

The man doesn't answer him. "So why do you look like that?"

They make it to the barista, who is a cute boy with curly hair and little freckles. "How can I help you?" He says, after giving Stiles an obvious once-over, checking him out. Stiles politely returns a smile, Derek clears his throat loudly.

After raising an eyebrow at Derek, he turns back to reply to the barista. "Hey. I'll take one caramel frappe, one hazelnut frappe, and a slice of the oreo cheesecake."

"No problem, cutie." He bites his lower lip at the end of the sentence while scribbling down the order. Stiles lets out one of his cute modest laughs at the boy and takes out his wallet. The barista gives him another grin before leaving to make his order.

Stiles leads Derek to an empty table while they wait for the order. The man looks oddly agitated when he pulls the chair, scraping it against the ground loudly. He sits down arms crossed with a sour look, obviously upset.

"What's wrong with your face?" Stiles asks, mocking the man.

"Nothing." The man looks off somewhere else besides at him.

"Bullshit. You look like a sourwolf."

"I don't." Derek lets out a little sigh, slouching back into the chair, avoiding eye contact with Stiles.

"You do."

The man doesn't give in to Stiles' childish banter, so he just continues bothering the man. "Hey Derek."

The man grits his teeth. "What. Stiles?"

"Why are you upset?" He tries to sound as cute as he can, mimicking Isaac's puppy dog face.

Derek doesn't budge one bit.

Stiles is about to continue whining, but then his order is called by the barista, so he stands to get his delicious cake.

Derek pushes his chair back roughly and stands up before Stiles has lifted his butt from the seat. "Sit." He says with that rough and commanding voice that sends chills down Stiles' spine.

"But-"

"I'll get the drinks." He says, walking over to the counter with brooding shoulders. He suddenly looks very good in the leather jacket Stiles bought him.

Stiles watches as Derek smoothly walks over to the counter and .. glares at the barista. It isn't just a glare though, it's more like Derek is shooting daggers through his eyes. He looks like he is about to rip the barista's throat out with his teeth. The poor kid looks terrified by Derek, slowly pushing the drinks and cake forward instead of handing it to him. He says something Stiles can't hear to the kid, which kinda causes him to whimper and tremble. Derek narrows his eyes and snatches the order and leaves with another murderous glare.

The man stalks back over to the table and puts down the order, sitting down like a grumpy old man.

Stiles awkwardly pokes a straw in his drink and sips at it. A blend of vanilla, caramel, and ice rush down his throat, providing a tasty heaven to his taste buds.

Derek is looking at him with an annoyed face, so Stiles just looks down at his cup and pretends he's reading it. As he turns it, he notices that there is a phone number scrawled on it, followed by a 'call me' in cursive.

He smiles wide at the bold action. He can't help but feel flattered. Derek catches the look and furrows his eyebrows.

"What?"

He looks up at Derek with a wide grin, showing him the cup.

"It's a phone number. The barista must ha-" Derek snatches the drink quickly away from Stiles and jams the straw in his mouth, his fingers covering the phone number. He then pushes his own drink towards Stiles and sits back, mumbling something.

"Hey!" Stiles whines like a little kid who just got candy taken away from him. "Give me my drink!"'

"No." Derek looks over at the barista who just happens to be staring at them. When he sees Derek's murderous glare, the barista jumps and drops the cup of coffee he was blending.

"D-Derek!" The man looks at Stiles and raises his eyebrows, he has this prideful look on. "What did you say to the kid!"

"Nothing much. Just that he shouldn't call random people 'cutie'" Derek emphasizes extra disgust on the word 'cutie'.

He assumes that Derek said much more than just a warning. He probably threatened to eat the poor kid.

"There's nothing wrong with that. He was just being nice." Stiles sips from Derek's drink, not caring that the man already had his lips on it. The hazelnut is less sweet than the caramel drink, but it is still good.

Derek scoffs loudly. "Yea, I'm sure he was." He says sarcastically. "And was he being nice when he gave you his phone number?"

Stiles pouts and frowns. "Maybe."

"So were you going to call him?" The man raises his eyebrows.

"Maybe." He frowns, and Derek looks a little hurt. "No. Probably not."

"Okay then." Derek smirks and continues to slurp on the drink.

Stiles takes the fork and stabs his cheesecake, shoving the cake in his mouth while frowning.

"So why was your face sunburnt earlier?" Derek asks, continuing to slurp on his drink.

"Iht wushnt shunbunt." He makes out through a mouthful of delicious orgasmic oreo cheesecake.

Derek flinches, wiping his face. "I think I have cake in my eye."

Stiles swallows. "Serves you right."

He wonders if he should tell Derek the whole story. The man would probably beat him senseless. Even though Stiles had been living with the man for the past two weeks, it still seemed like he knew nothing about the man. Did he even like guys?

"Just something the clerk at the shop said." He says casually.

"What'd she say?"

"Said I was cute."

Derek's eyebrows furrow. Like he's displeased to hear that. "And?"

"That's it. She called me cute. Why is that hard to believe? In my defense, I think I'm pretty stinkin' cute. I'm like a big ball of cuteness and sunshine. You should be taking notes."

Derek looks unamused. "What else did she say?"

"Nothing in particular." He replies nonchalantly, licking his fork.

The man narrows his eyes. "Liar."

Stiles liked to think of himself as a pretty good liar, being a person who always got into mischief and lied his way out of it. So when Derek calls him a liar, he takes offense.

"She did!" By this time, there is no more cheesecake, so he can't hide behind mouthfuls of deliciousness anymore.

"And what else?" It seems that there was no escaping Derek's interrogation.

"She might've said something about you too." That catches Derek's attention. Stiles turns his body and crosses his legs, directing his vision away from Derek, and pretends to watch people pass by.

"Like what?"

"She said you were .. really hot. And stuff. Something about your 'killer smile' and 'hot bod'." He coughs loudly, clearing his throat at the end of the sentence. The old lady at the table next to them gives him a weird look.

Stiles risks a side glance at Derek, without moving his head. The man looks amused. Smiling. "That's nice of her."

He feels an annoying twinge of jealousy in his chest. "Oh yea? Why don't you go get her number then?" He grits his teeth.

"For the same reason I'm not giving you back this cup." He replies cryptically.

Stiles tries to decode what Derek means, but then the man changes the subject again.

"So why were you blushing?"

He clears his throat, rolling his shoulders a bit. "She might have also thought .. that we were a couple." He closes one eye and side-eyes the man to see his reaction.

Derek has this wide-eyed look. And he is blushing. His signature subtle pink that starts at the nape of his neck and spills upwards, to the edges of his ears. The man coughs, sitting up in the chair. Stiles never would've thought that Derek, big and tough, was the sensitive man. He wasn't really a man of many words, but he did show his emotions through actions. Derek looked either embarrassed or uncomfortable, they way he averted eye contact.

"O-of course, I said that we weren't!" Stiles says quickly after that, which seems to relax Derek. "Cause that's crazy and stuff." There a little pause, and Stiles hates awkward silence, so he continues to speak. "Okay. Now that I got you some clothes, let's go to the market, Allison and Lydia are coming over for girls night tomorrow and we are cooking pasta."

"But you aren't a gir-"

"Shut up, you're joining us."

The man frowns.

"I'm not a girl Sti-"

"You're. Joining."

Stiles stands and reaches for the empty cup in front of Derek, so he can throw it away. The man's darts forward and grabs the cup, his hand on top of Stiles'.

"I'll throw away the cup."

"No, it's okay, I got it."

The man furrows his eyebrows. "No, Stiles." He stands, fingers still on top of Stiles', and takes his other hand and grips Stiles' forearm. He pushes Stiles' arm away from he cup, and takes the rest of the trash and leaves towards the trash can. Derek visibly crushes the cup in his palm and tosses it into the can. Stiles can't help but smile and blush.

He jogs to catch up with the man.

"You're still joining girls night."

 

* * *

 

"Stiles!"

"Ally!"

The moment his loft door opens, Allison is launching herself at Stiles, swallowing him into a tight hug, and they are rocking back and forth like relatives. Her skin is warm, but her jacket is cold from the chilly air outside. She smells sweet like lavender.

He hadn't seen her for two weeks, the last time they all got together for dinner. Allison was always a joy to see, she was always so warm and nice and always favored Stiles over everyone else. Out of all of his friends, she was the most humble, also one of the strongest girls he had ever known. Seeing her was like a fresh breath of air.

"How are you!" She exclaims after letting him go.

"He's fine! Can we hurry I just came out of a six hour surgery and I'm hungry." Stiles looks over Allison's shoulder to see his favorite redhead goddess.

"Lydia!" He stretches his arms out, but she just walks right by, rolling he eyes. He pouts, and Allison pats his shoulder and giggles.

They all move to the kitchen like the start of every 'girls night'. It is usually dinner, gossip, Lydia bullying Stiles, Allison comforting Stiles, catching up, and sometimes they eat plenty of dessert.

"I hope you girls don't mind, there is an additional guest joining girls night." Stiles tells them both as they enter his kitchen.

"Oh, I've been waiting to meet him. They've told me that he's got Dr. Stilinski shaking in his boots! Where is he?" Alllison asks while she is washing her hands at the kitchen sink.

"W-what! I don't know what you're talking about. And he's in the shower." Stiles ducks his head into the fridge to hide his blush. He gets some ingredients out while he's at it.

"How is he?" Lydia asks, as she sits at the breakfast bar and watches them move around the kitchen. She usually never helps, just watches him and Ally cook. Her elbow is propped up on the counter, head resting against her hand. "How are his wounds?"

Stiles begins chopping up some vegetables while Allison works on the pasta sauce. "He is healing normally, no infection or anything. Still some residual scarring, but pretty much everything is okay."

"Is he remembering anything?"

"Not that I know of, no. I'm starting to get concerned."

"It's normal in cases like this." Lydia says nonchalantly, as she starts peeling away the polish on her nails. He knows she is trying to reassure him with normality. Lydia always kept a cool head, always acted normal in any situation. Whether it was in the OR and her patient was bleeding to death, or now, when Stiles is distressed, Lydia would never panic. "Although it varies from patient to patient, the median amount of time is surprisingly low."

He knew this, after hours of research, he knew this. But he couldn't help but be worried for no reason. Just seeing Derek go through so much was disheartening. It was just weird having someone around who didn't remember anything of his past. There was a lack of 'getting to know' when there was nothing to really ask.

"Just give it time. Statistically most retrograde amnesiacs regain memories slowly over time, but eventually they will remember." He loved it when Lydia spoke medical, she always has an eloquent way of outsmarting Stiles and making him feel better at the same time.

"Even though I have no clue what Lydia just said, I agree that you should stop worrying." Allison peeks over his shoulder and nudges him.

"Who says I'm worried?" He frowns while throwing in the vegetables into the pasta sauce.

"You do that thing." Lydia and Allison say at the same time.

"What thing!"

"You fidget." Lydia says without looking at him, she is on her last finger, chipping away bright red polish.

"I do not fidget." He looks at Allison for support.

She shrugs her shoulders and purses her lips. "You kinda do Stiles." She sighs while pouring some pasta into the pot of boiling water.

"I feel so attacked."

Allisons laughs, flicking some water at him. Stiles is prepared to wipe some pasta sauce on her face when Lydia scolds them.

"Please, the last time you guys did that, we had to order takeout and there was steak sauce all over my clothes and the ceiling." Allison sticks out her tongue and resumes her cooking.

After a little while Lydia, speaks up again. "Stiles."

He looks up from the plates he pulls out of the upper cabinet. "Yes, my Queen Lydia."

She rolls her eyes and Allison laughs. "Chief wants those medical journals you borrowed from his office back."

It takes a second before he remembers what Lydia is talking about. Journals about post-traumatic stress he borrowed to learn more about Derek. He'd asked for them last week and never returned them. "Oh, right. They're somewhere in my room, I'll get them later."

"No, go get them now, because you aren't going to remember later." She gives him her 'you-know-I'm-right' look, and Stiles groans because she was right. Heck, he'd probably forget about the journals in the next five minutes.

He brings the pasta sauce down to a simmer and wipes his hands on a kitchen rag.

Lydia just gives him a little glance before pulling out some blue nail polish and begins painting her nails. Before he makes it to the top of the stairs, he hears Allison telling her it will be hard to eat with wet nails.

Making it to the top, he notices that the door to his room was ajar, light off.

Upon entering, he smells mostly Derek, and just faintly like Stiles, so it was a bit strange coming into his own room. IT wasn't necessarily bad, though. Derek wasn't there, most likely changing because there was no sound of running water coming from the bathroom.

The work desk in the corner of his room is junky as always, medical files, patient charts, surgical magazines all scrambled in a huge mess. He begins to dissect the large pile of papers and documents when his door opens.

"Stiles?"

"Hey Der." He mumbles, mind focused on finding the medical journals he borrowed from the chief. He had almost forgotten about them, it was a good thing Lydia had reminded him. Even so, his desk was like a mosaic of different papers, making it kind of impossible to find what he was looking for. "The girls are over." He mutters. "Dinner in a few."

"Um. Could I talk to you about something?" Derek says, his words are unusually slurred out.

"Uh-huh?" He says, continuing to furiously sort through some papers on the mini cabinet connected to his desk. "Sure bud what is it?"

"You know how we went shopping yesterday? We .. kind of forgot to get something.." His voice is soft and subtle.

Stiles pauses his searching for a second to think, going through all the possibilities. He doesn't move, just stands there and sorts through his memory of yesterday. "No, I got you everything. Shirts, sweatpants, jacket, shoes, socks, jeans .. I even got you the cute onesie with the wolves on it that you said you didn't like but I knew you wanted." He then continues to furiously search.

"Well .. there is one thing.."

He stops to look through a patient chart he'd been searching for for weeks, quickly reading it while talking to Derek. "Yea? Like what?" He says, half listening to Derek.

He waits for Derek's reply, but it never comes.

After a minute, Stiles finally looks up at the man, giving up on the search.

"Der-"

He feels his chest stop. His breathing stop. His eyes widen. And his face burst into flames. Hot, fiery flames. Hot enough to melt the sun.

Derek was shirtless, which was nothing new for Stiles, he had seen it times before (not saying it wasn't amazing, because it was), but that wasn't what caught Stiles' attention.

It was .. his lower half. The man had on new semi-tight gray sweatpants that Stiles got him, they looked good on him, expertly showing off his muscled legs (and cute butt), just like back in the dressing room of the mall.

What was different .. was that Derek was ... naked under the sweatpants. NAKED.

And Stiles could only tell because there was a thick, large outline .. around his groin area. He could easily make out the long length of Derek's ..

The man was well endowed, to say the least.

"DEREK!" He finally yells after staring at the bulge in the man's sweatpants for too long. His own hands are flying to cover his eyeballs, cheeks burning red, heart racing, throat alarmingly dry. "WHERE ARE YOUR UNDERPANTS!" He shouts, feeling blood start to pool in his pants in arousal.

"THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU." Derek yells back, obviously embarrassed.

"MY EYES DEREK! MY EYES!"

"YOU FORGOT TO BUY ME UNDERWEAR."

"WHY DIDN'T YOU REMIND ME."

"I DON'T KNOW."

"I AM BLIND DEREK. BLIND. OH. MY. GOD." Stiles thoughts weren't coherent enough to make any sense, he could only think about how well endowed Derek was, and how much it was affecting his lower regions. "THERE ARE SOME BOXER BRIEFS IN MY BOTTOM DRAWER."

He can hear quick shuffling on the hardwood floor, his wooden drawer squeeking open, and some ruffling of fabric.

"Do I wear the one with the batman or the pink hearts?"

"Well I think the ones with the hearts ar- .. ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY! MY EYESIGHT IS GONE DEREK. YOUR DICK JUST JABBED ME IN THE CORNEA. HOW WILL I SAVE LIVES? HOW WILL I ENJOY THE BEAUTIFUL THINGS IN LIFE." He is whining and pretending to melt into a puddle of water, like his life was ending.

Stiles then hears a familiar sound of fabric being pulled down and he feels his whole body burst into eternal fire.

"DEREK ARE YOU CHANGING IN HERE?!"

"Stiles, shut up and just keep your eyes closed." The man growls from the corner of the room.

He is about to say 'I can't make any promises', but then the door slams open.

Stiles peeks through the openings of his fingers to see a wildly confused Allison.

"What is going ... on here?" She says, eyes wide, mouth gaping open.

Stiles slowly turns his head to peek at Derek. Thankfully, he was in the underwear, but that didn't really hide his giant d-

"I- was just borrowing clothes from Stiles, I didn't know he was in here." Derek stumbles, jumping into the sweatpants, the tips of his ears slightly pink.

Lydia strolls past Allison and looks at the two men. She blinks a couple of times at the shirtless Derek, and then at Stiles, who is still in his terrified position, knees up against his chest, fingers over his face.

"I'm not even going to ask. Dinner is ready." She purses her lips, and walks back out the door, leaving behind a faint scent of nail polish.

Allison is smiling wide as her face can manage, a little pink tint on her cheeks. She looks like she is plotting a evil plan. She turns smoothly and skips out the room singing, "Isaac is going to loove this!"

Stiles feels his skin crawl terribly. "W-wait! Ally WAIT!" He then swiftly runs after her, tripping on the floor in a tangle of uncoordinated limbs.

 

* * *

 

Dinner is basically Lydia talking about some guy named Aiden who came in for some stitches, Allison telling a story about a poodle she rescued, and Stiles avoiding any eye contact with Derek at all costs. He was trying to focus solely on the fettucini alfredo pasta, which would be absolutely delicious if his thoughts weren't glued on some inappropriate thoughts.

"So how long was it Stiles?" Lydia asks.

Stiles can feel the air in the entire room disappear. Derek and himself freeze like ice, forks frozen in midair. He slowly raises his head to stare shockingly at the redhead. His eyes are wide in disbelief. "W-what?"

"How long was the medical journal?" Stiles lets out a sigh so heavy it could sink a ship. He begins to feel hot in his clothes. Lydia either doesn't seem to notice, or doesn't care. "I was planning on reading it myself actually."

Allison is seated in front of Lydia, her wide smile attempting to hide behind a forkful of pasta. The brunette looks at Stiles and decides to pity him, changing the person of conversation.

"So Derek, how has Stiles been treating you? Hopefully not like a slave, he is mess of a person. All he does is read medical stuff, stay up all night, and consume nothing but coffee."

"I resent that! Sometimes I drink hot cocoa with marshmallows thank you very much." He says pompously, stabbing his fork into a shrimp.

Derek chuckles, putting on that smile he used when he tried to impress other people.

' _I know what you really are you bully_.' Stiles thinks to himself, narrowing his eyes at the man.

"Well, he's been actually very nice to me. Aside from the nonstop talking, obsession with caffeinated drinks, and long marathons of some show about werewolves, he is very hospitable."

"Well that's something you don't hear everyday." Lydia says, twisting her fork in a circle to pick up pasta.

"Hey! I am very hospitable." He argues, mouthful of pasta.

"Oh and he talks with his mouth full." Stiles shoots Derek a evil look, the man smirks thinking he's cute.

He wasn't.

Stiles feels his phone vibrate, pulling it out to read a new text.

**Jacks 9:49 PM:**

_what the fuck am i hearing abt you and naked derek?_

Stiles feels his throat dry. "A-allison! You told Jackson!?"

The brunette looks bewildered. "Huh? No, I told Isaac."

Stiles was going to die. Die.  _Stop breathing._ Jackson was going to kill him.

He quickly types back to Jackson.

**Stiles 9:50 PM:**

_He wasn't naked, I promise! :(_   _!_

**Jacks 9:50PM:**

_do i need to come ovr?_

**Jacks 9:51PM:**

_fk it im on my way._

**Stiles 9:51PM:**

_No! NO! Everything is okay Jacks! Ally n Lydia r here. Its not what u think!_

Stiles leans back into his chair, head falling backwards as he lets out a loud groan of pain. "I am so done!" He sits up quickly looking at Lydia. "Jackson is speeding his way over here, can you please make him stop?"

She rolls her eyes, dabbing her lips with a napkin, and leaps off the chair and walks off to the balcony. Allison is giggling, her smile as pretty as flowers. Shes begins to gather up the plates and utensils, bringing them to the sink. Derek stands to help her, giving Stiles a lingering look of either worry or curiosity.

 

* * *

 

"My life is ruined." He moans, arm strewn over his eyes. Allison and him are out on the balcony, staring at the night sky.

"Oh shut up, Jackson will be alright." He sits up and looks at her evilly.

"I'll be lucky if I get to even look at a boy again." It was a good thing Lydia convinced Jackson not to come speeding over in that porsche of his. Derek would probably be thrown off the balcony, and Stiles handcuffed to his coffee machine forever.

"I wish Scott was that bi-"

"ALLY!" He cries not wanting to hear the rest of that word and what it meant for him. Picturing Scott's private parts was not in his interests at the moment. NO ONE'S private parts were in his interests at the moment.

She giggles and pats his arm.

They sit in silence for awhile, enjoying each other's presence, absorbing the still, night air. Allison is looking at him, her two brown eyes capturing the moonlight perfectly. She stares at him with her thinking look, the look she gets when the gears in her head are working and spinning.

"Okay, I give. What is on your mind?" He asks, unable to quell his curiosity.

"Derek." She says quietly, like she is afraid the stars may hear her.

"What about him?"

"And you."

He raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"You may see it as you, curing Derek, fixing him up and caring for him, just like you would for any patient that needed help. My dad tells me of Mrs. Stilinski, and how much you match her perfectly. How you two have the habit to care for things that are broken. But there is something different here. You think you're just fixing him, but I can tell that there is something changing. In the way you two move around each other, like two waves in the same ocean. In the way you two look at each other, like wolf and moon. Fixing his body is one thing Stiles, but curing his heart is another."

He doesn't know what to say after that. She sounded so knowing, so wise, and after just a dinner of observing him and Derek. He didn't understand. He wants to ask what she really means, but he knows she wouldn't answer him.

So they sit still again, peaceful in each other's company. But suddenly, the night sky felt so much heavier than before.

 


	5. Nightmares

_Screaming._

_Loud moans of pain._

_Terror._

_He can feel the air being ripped in half._

_Shouting so raw it runs his blood cold._

_Moans of agony._

_Why won't it stop?_

_So loud._

_The screaming._

_It's so loud._

Stiles opens his eyes, quickly looking around the dark room. His breathing is heavy, lungs full of uncertain breaths. For a second there is just silence, the screaming only echo in his mind. But then the grueling sound rips across the loft again.

Like lightning he jumps off the couch, mind trying to adjust to the situation, bones still tense from sleep , muscles still stiff, but he runs anyways. Running up the stairs and through the hallway, eyes trying to adjust to the darkness, mind still trying to understand, ears trying to pinpoint the source.

Loud groans, enough to rattle the spaces inbetween his spine.

He busts the door of his room open to find Derek twisting in the bed like it is trying to swallow him alive. The man tries to bite back a scream, fingers clawing through the maroon comforters. The moonlight crawls onto his skin, revealing the deep agony. Stiles assesses the situation in a single second, immediately diving by Derek's side, attempting to awaken him from a hell only apparent in his mind.

The man glistens with cold sweat, eyes clenched tight, arms quivering under nothing but fear. He mutters the same things over an over again.

"Kate." "Please." "Why are you doing this?" "It hurts." "Please, stop." The words slice right through Stiles, like the sharpest blade, so sharp it can cut through diamonds.

"Derek. DEREK!" He shakes the man, which seems to do nothing. Derek just continues to toss and turn, flailing like an animal trying to escape from captivity. His chest rises and falls like a hurricane at sea, torrential waves unpredictable.

He raises a hand and slaps the man hard across the face, and it works, Derek's eyes shoot open, fear in his pupils, redness in his scleras.

The man jumps up quicker than anything, pulling Stiles up with him, grabbing him with an iron grip. He spins them both and rams Stiles' back into the wall where the headboard rests, pushing his shoulder blades harshly against the drywall.

Stiles yelps in pain, both from Derek's hands that were gripping his arms so tightly, and the pressure from being pushed into the wall. The pain rattles his bones awake, loosens his muscles with solid pain.

"D-derek." He groans, trying to resist, but the man keeps his two arms pinned down by his side. The man's fingers are digging sharply into his naked flesh, so hard he whimpers from the pain. So hard, it probably draws blood. So hard he feels tears forming.

He tries to search through Derek's eyes, but all he can find is darkness and fear. There is no warm spring green. There is no one.

"Derek. It's me, Stiles." He cries.

The man blinks a couple of times, shaking away the slumber. When those eyes see Stiles, pain thick on his face, eyelids rimmed with tears, Derek lightens his grip so he isn't grabbing and pushing anymore. They stand, face to face, just a few inches separating them.

"Stiles..?" Derek whimpers, and it is more painful than any of the screaming or groaning. He whimpers and the pain is so real, Stiles can feel it through the man's breath. He whimpers because he hurt Stiles, and the guilt is toxic. The man looks at Stiles so hard, like he is trying to tattoo the image into his brain. His face becomes broken, Stiles can feel the guilt drown Derek inside out. The fear becomes saddness, the darkness becomes poisonous green.

The man sinks to his knees, Stiles falls with him.

"I'm sorry. So sorry Stiles. I-"

"Shhh." He says, hands trying to rub reassurance into the man. It doesn't work, Derek continues to shake, tremble from guilt. Stiles lays down, head resting on some pillows. He pulls the man's head to his chest, wrapping one arm around the man's trembling body, pulling it closer into him. He takes a gentle hand and runs his fingers through Derek's hair. The man lays down against Stiles tightly, trying to cuddle in closer to him, easily melting into the touch, his arms hold Stiles like he's afraid he will fall off the Earth if he lets go.

"It's okay." He whispers, placing a kiss on the top of the man's head. "It's okay."

They cuddle like that until the adrenaline leaves, until Derek stops trembling.

It feels like forever, but Stiles could card his fingers through the man's hair all night.

"Stiles." The man mumbles, voice no longer broken.

"Don't say sorry again or you can cuddle by yourself."

Derek says nothing at all, he just scoots upwards, so his head rests in the crook of Stiles' neck. The man's nose gently digs into his neck, and Stiles can feel Derek's eyelashes softly brushing against his skin.

He can't get rid of the constant questions ricocheting in his head. The silence clears his mind, and all he can think about is Derek's pleading. His screams of pain. "Who is Kate?" Stiles asks finally.

The man solidifies in Stiles' touch, muscles tense again. Stiles takes his hand rubs the man's back. "I'm here Derek." He places another kiss in the forest of dark ruffled hair.

The man loosens a bit, he answers after Stiles resumes running his fingers through the man's hair, basically leaning into his touch.

"She was the one. The one who .."

"Hurt you." Stiles feels rage begin to burn inside of him. The anger is destructive, corrupting all of his thoughts.

"Yea."

Derek's whimpers, begging, pleading for her to stop hurting him. They echo in Stiles' mind, branding themselves into his head.

"She can't anymore."

Derek says nothing.

They lay like that for a few minutes in silent, two bodies pressed against each other, Stiles anchoring Derek into calmness. He feels at peace, with their bodies connected, everything feels right.

"I'll protect you." He says after a long while.

"You? Protect me?" Derek asks, raising his head off Stiles. He looks at him with eyes soft like clouds. There is a tiny smirk, and Stiles feels like he can breathe again because Derek is better now.

Stiles props himself up with his elbows, so he can face Derek. "You protect me from cute, harmless baristas at the mall, and I'll protect you from psychopathic bitches named Kate."

Derek smiles this time, face hovering in front of his, just inches apart. The man's breathing ghosts over the coast of Stiles' cheeks, nose barely touching his.

Stiles was known for following his gut. Following his instincts. Doing what felt fucking right at the time, no matter what the circumstances were. And whether he ended up benefiting or not, he'd never regret it. Ever.

So as he stares at Derek, eyes deep, bodies tied together by warmth and skin, he feels no regrets. He leans his head in, closes his eyes, and kisses Derek, pressing his lips chaste against the man.

Derek is hesitant at first, but melts into the kiss smoothly, opening his mouth to kiss Stiles back. The man's mouth is so soft, and he tasted unexpectedly sweet. It's achingly slow at first, but then Derek can't help himself, he opens his mouth and he kisses harder, lower lip meeting with Stiles' upper lip, but still painfully slow. Stiles presses forward, opens his mouth as Derek claims him, lips colliding as Derek takes control and pushes him flat on the bed, moaning deeply into Stiles tongue. He can feel Derek's tongue in his mouth as he hungrily kisses Stiles, lips knowing exactly where to suck, where to glide.

Derek pins his arms on either side of his head, tongue delving into his mouth as the kiss deepens. He moans loudly into the man's mouth, feeling Derek's tongue on his own, lips tasting him like wine. Derek pulls back just a little, but Stiles raises his head slightly and then Derek's tongue is between his lips, he pushes down on Stiles, twisting his head and the kiss makes Stiles curl his toes. He sucks the man's tongue, running his teeth against his lower lip, which makes Derek growl deliciously. His skin scrapes against Derek's stubble, hands grabbing the man's back, running up to grab Derek's hair, grabbing for anything so he knows that this is real.

He can feel Derek's thick erection on his thigh, which makes him moan louder into the kiss. The man presses his groin down gently, nudging against Stiles' hard erection, and he just feels the man's tongue in his mouth. Derek pushes him into the bed, sloppily kissing him until Stiles breaks apart, panting for air. Derek hovers over him, panting as well, his lips swollen and red.

His face burns from rubbing against the man's stubble, his heart is pounding so fast, all he can feel is Derek's warmth on lips, on his skin.

The man looks down at him and Stiles has never seen anyone so beautiful.

"Is the barista still cute?" Derek pants, smirking.

"Is your dick hard as steel?" Stiles grins widely, leaning up to give one last slow kiss, inserting his tongue so Derek catches it inbetween his lips.

Stiles always followed his gut. And it just got him the best makeout session of his entire life, and the hardest erection he's ever gotten.

 

* * *

 

When Stiles wakes up, he is in the bed alone, the spot next to him still warm. He scratches his head, yawns, and stretches, letting out a loud groan.

He brushes his teeth, eyes barely open until he splashes cold water on his face. He flees the bathroom after throwing on a thin henley.

Upon leaving his room, he smells freshly brewed coffee lingering in the air. He stands at the ledge at the top of the stairs and stares down at the kitchen. Derek was pouring two healthy amounts of coffee in cups.

"Morning." He calls, voice echoing throughout the loft.

Derek looks up at him and gives him a crooked smile. "Hey."

Stiles walks down the spiral staircase, up to the kitchen island. "How'd you sleep?" He mumbles around the rim of the coffee cup. Its warmth and decadent taste washes away every kink in his body.

"No nightmares after the first one." Derek replies, taking a sip of his own cup.

Stiles grins at that. Whether it was the cuddling, making out, or sleeping in the same bed that banished Derek's nightmares, he didn't care, because he wouldn't mind doing any or all of the above. He finally felt like he could do something helpful for Derek, finally something stop all of the pain and agony that the man went through. And if he could do it while have the hottest kisses he could ever imagine, then so be it.

Stiles didn't exactly know what they were now, but he did know that there was something there. Allison was right, as she always was when it came to his relationships. This wasn't just Stiles fixing Derek, this was Stiles caring for Derek. There was something more here. And he doesn't really know if it's good or not.

The last time he had a relationship ...

"Stiles?"

"H-huh?" He looks up from his reflection in the coffee. Derek had a worried expression on, like he saw something scary.

"You're shaking." He mutters.

Stiles looks at the hand holding his coffee; it was indeed shaking. And his breathing was uneven too. He attempts to shake away the thoughts of his past, and trying to refocus himself.

Derek walks up to him and places his hands on Stiles' arms.

"Ouch!" He yelps loudly, quickly feeling a nasty sting when Derek touches him. Stiles immediately regrets vocalizes his pain because it causes Derek's expression to shift; from worry to guilt. He looked hurt by Stiles' reaction to his comfort.

The man places his fingers on the bottom of Stiles' henley to pull it off, but he resists, placing his hand on top of Derek's. "I'm fine Der." He says as reassuringly as he can.

The man frowns and furrows his eyebrows, knocking off Stiles' hands. Derek pulls his shirt off in a smooth movement and begins to inspect his arms.

Stiles looks down at them and sees five deep, bloody fingernail lacerations on both arms. The cuts have begun to heal overnight, but are still red around the area.

He looks up at Derek, who is pale in the face, jaw slack and eyes saddened. The man traces the area around the cuts with a tender finger, it trembles just slightly

"Dere-"

"I'm sorry." He mumbles, like he's angry with himself. Like he hates himself for ever touching Stiles in the first place. Like he just stepped on a rose with his own two feet.

"Would you stop apologizing!?" Stiles yells as quietly as he can.

"It was my fault Stiles!" The man grits his teeth, looking away from him, taking a step back.

Stiles steps forward and grabs the man's arm with a firm hand. "No it's not and you know it's not. Now stop trying to make a big deal out of a few scrapes."

Derek looks at him with narrow eyes. "I hurt you Stiles. How can you not hate me?" His voice is so transparent.

Stiles was tired of this. Tired of the endless repercussions, tired of the infinite amount of habits that Derek picked up from his trauma. He hated Kate so much, he didn't even know her but he didn't need a reason. He hated her because she did this to Derek. And he knew Derek. He might not know his birthday, or his mother, or how old he is, but that didn't matter. He knew the Derek that was standing in front of him now, and he was tired of him being hurt.

"No. Nothing you can do can make me hate you, Derek. Nothing besides hating yourself."

The man looks shocked.

"Stop trying to find a way to hate yourself. Stop trying to find a way to say sorry. To be hated. I don't hate you. I'm not mad at you. So stop, okay?"

The response comes after a few beats. "Okay." He whispers in reply.

"Okay."

 

* * *

 

While he's at work, all he can really think about is Derek, which is a little concerning, seeing as he should be focused on saving lives. But there is just a curiosity sparked inside of him, wanting to find out what the really happened last night.

He kissed Derek.

And Derek kissed him back.

Well, it wasn't so much kissing as it was trying to suck each other's face off, but it was equally hot either way. He often finds himself reveling in the memory, seeing as it wasn't something you could easily forget. Kissing him felt right. It was like Derek's lips were a bottomless glass of scotch. Each taste got Stiles more and more intoxicated, but it never seemed to stop.

Stiles was an over thinker, always analyzing every single detail, sometimes to an unnecessary extent.

The kiss.

He wonders, was it because Derek just felt obliged? As fucking sick as it sounded, was Derek just following muscle memory? Doing something he was accustomed to? Something he was forced to so many times that it felt habitual?

The thought makes Stiles sick, but he can't help it, his mind likes to see all of the possibilities, and Derek being sexually used in the past was indeed one of them.

There were just too many possible answers, and Stiles just wants to go home and taste Derek's tongue on his lips again, wanting the man to grind into him, sloppily making out with him. But he doesn't want to do anything that could ruin this relationship. He wasn't going to do anything Derek wasn't comfortable with.

Until he knows Derek didn't kiss him out of sheer habit, he won't make a move again. Derek had been through way too much already, he was just now healing, Stiles had to make sure he doesn't make any wrong decisions.

 

* * *

 

Saying you'll do something is very much different as actually doing it, Stiles realizes. Because once he is home, and finds Derek cuddled up on the sofa reading a book, he just feels like tackling him with kisses. He was sitting, legs propped up on the coffee table, ankles crossed, in a pair of pajamas.

"Hey." He says, unwrapping a scarf Isaac got for him from his neck.

Derek shuts his book closed and looks up. "Stiles." He doesn't smile, but his expression does change into happy on seeing Stiles.

"You're still up. It's late." He glances at the clock on the wall, it is a little past midnight.

The man doesn't say anything, just stands and makes his way over to Stiles.

"Did you eat?" He asks, looking into the fridge for a drink. He pulls out a bottle of water and chugs it.

"Yea. Allison dropped by with food."

He looks at the man and see's his mouth slightly open, like he wants to say something but doesn't know how.

"Everything cool?" He asks, twisting the cap back on the water bottle.

"I tried sleeping."

"And I see you were unsuccessful."

"I-" The man looks down, unable to form the words to describe the feelings that appear on his face.

Stiles understands what the man wants to ask. He was afraid of having nightmares again. He could easily tell how much of a toll they took on Derek. The man doesn't know how to ask though. He doesn't know how to ask Stiles to sleep with him, so he can finally stop waking up screaming.

Stiles takes Derek's hand in his, fingers interlocking. This surprises the man, and he opens his mouth to ask why.

He doesn't let him, just leads the man upstairs, pulling him along into his room. Stiles sits the man on the bed and lets go of his hand. Derek makes a disapproving noise from the loss of Stiles' hand, but doesn't say any words.

"I'll be right back." Stiles leaves to brush his teeth, wash his face, use the restroom, and change into pajamas. When he returns to the room, he sees that Derek hasn't moved an inch, still sitting idly in that position.

Stiles climbs into the bed and under the covers.

Derek looks at him wide-eyed. "You're staying?" He says in disbelief.

"Do you want me to leave?" He asks.

"No." Derek says quickly. "No. I want you to stay. Stay." And then the man climbs into bed beside Stiles, skin barely ghosting against skin. Stiles wants to lean into Derek's warmth, he wants to wrap his body around him.

But he doesn't. He turns his body away from Derek, not wanting to do anything to overstep boundaries.

He can feel Derek shuffle and turn to imitate Stiles' position.

They lay like that for a while, but he knows Derek isn't asleep.

"Stiles." The man is whispering, but it feels like so much more.

"Hmmm?" Stiles mumbles, pretending to be sleepy.

"I..." There is uncertainty in his voice. "Can I .."

Stiles doesn't know what pushes him to do it, maybe the hint of desperation in Derek's voice, or maybe it's his fear of Derek's nightmares, but he doesn't care.

He shifts backwards slightly, letting the man know it was okay. Derek immediately wraps his arm around Stiles' stomach, pulling him into his strong chest. He feels so warm he forgets that it's the middle of autumn outside. Derek holds him and he honestly feels so safe.

They cuddle, just like that, Derek's breaths light against the nape of his neck, Derek's skin smooth like satin against his body.

"Don't leave? Please?" He whispers, and Stiles can feel those words spill straight through his spine.

"Okay." And the man lifts his head and kisses the skin between his neck and his shoulder. Stiles pulls in a ragged breath, feeling Derek's lips against his skin again, and again, and again, up and up his neck until it reaches his own lips.

He opens his mouth as Derek kisses him, his tongue pulling Stiles' lip into his kiss. It is tantalizing, the way Derek kisses him again and again, twisting his head in different angles and pulling in sharp breaths through his nose. Stiles moans as the top of his lip is sucked, teeth barely grazing it. Their mouths overlap each other over and over as the kisses intensify, each kiss with a push of his tongue into Stiles, and then pulling back to kiss him again. He's never felt anything so amazing

When Derek stops, all Stiles can do is pant, shallow breaths pulled over swollen lips. Derek's kisses tasted like the stars.

"God, you're amazing." He whispers before realizing what he said.

Derek takes a hand and holds Stiles cheek, he places one chaste kiss on his lips before falling back and pulling Stiles close to him.

They sleep soundly for the rest of the night.

 

 


	6. Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am in no way a medical professional, anything remotely medical in this work is made up or loosely researched.
> 
> Quick thanks to my previous readers who are continuing to support me!

For the rest of the month, Derek seems to get better.

1\. He doesn't have the random impulses anymore. He eats normally now, sits normally, overall he understands that he doesn't need permission to do normal things. After living a life of constantly following orders and only orders, it is a relief to finally see some normality in the man. They fall into a daily routine, where Derek is kind of building his own life. However, there are still some habits he can't shake, like flinching just slightly when Stiles reaches to touch him, or being unable to sleep alone without waking up screaming. He slightly jumps when there are loud noises, like Stiles dropping a pot, or slamming the door on accident. And there is always that little cringe when asked to undress.

2\. Physically, Derek's health has recovered. The most recent wounds have fully healed, the more serious bruises still a little tender to touch, even if he doesn't admit it in front of Stiles. Eventually, he doesn't have to replace bandages or check the wounds, anymore but Derek still insists on Stiles 'making sure' everything is ok.

3\. He asks for things, voicing his desires and needs. It happens slowly at first, as Derek tests the waters, because his mind is still afraid and his desires were once devoided. It started with little things like request for a certain dinner, or if it was okay to use his laptop, or if he could have his own phone. Stiles always said yes, but Derek usually requested for things possible. Slowly, he built his way up to more serious questions like 'can you sleep with me?' 'can you stay?' Still, Stiles said yes.

4\. He laughs. Not really often, but he does. Hearing it usually catches Stiles off guard, but it's warm and infectious. He laughs mostly at Stiles because he did something clumsy, or because Derek makes fun of him. Stiles appreciates it to some extent.

5\. He smiles. A lot more than he laughs, but Stiles is grateful because the man's smile was stunning. It had pieces of the sun in it. Stiles tries his best not to stare too long when Derek does smile, but he kind of loses track of time when it happens.

6\. As for his social skills, they do improve. By now, Stiles' friends have all become acquainted with Derek, although they haven't really become friends yet. But they do understand that anyone Stiles cares for so much is also worthy of their trust. They each swing by on their own time to check up on things, even Jackson, who acts like he doesn't care much for the man. Derek does often engage in conversation, but isn't as open as he is with Stiles. The man does attempt to be friendly, and that's all Stiles can really ask for.

Overall, it feels like Derek is a totally different person than when Stiles found him in the woods. It makes him feel better, knowing that they are making progress.

It isn't until a week later does Derek finally start remembering things. They both are eating dinner, situated on the couch while Stiles is showing him the wonders of Netflix.

They are in the middle of a conversation about watching a chick flick or a horror movie when Derek just freezes up. And it's like the man just stops in time, chest not moving, eyes not blinking.

It scares the crap out of Stiles. Because he doesn't know whats happening to Derek, why he's not moving, why he's not breathing. He's not doing anything at all. And Stiles is scared because Derek doesn't even react when Stiles places his hands on him. And he always did. It feels like he's in the middle of an operating room and his patient just flat-lined, it's terrifying.

Just before Stiles has a panic attack, Derek blinks like nothing even happened. The man looks at Stiles like he's fucking crazy, and Stiles feels like tackling the man to the floor.

The man notices Stiles' fingers on his face, and raises his own hand to hold them.

After that, it doesn't happen again. Derek says the memories just come to him, and it's a relief Stiles never has to go through that again.

Lydia tells him it is called Spontaneous Recovery. When someone has amnesia, you can't simply tell them of their past to help them remember. They won't register the memory, and it won't be familiar. They can only regain memories through Spontaneous Recovery, as it comes naturally and over time.

He often sees Derek stare off into space, and he immediately know he is remembering something. Derek at first doesn't like speaking about it, but Stiles finally convinces the man to tell him about the memories, even though they don't make sense just yet. He just wants to know more about Derek, anything about him.

It takes constant pestering, because Stiles was both stubborn as a mule and curious as a cat.

Eventually, Derek can't take it anymore and yells at him, shouting that he was afraid Stiles wouldn't like him anymore. He was afraid he would remember something that would scare Stiles away. He was afraid of the past he knew nothing about.

Of course, Derek regretted saying any of it right after his mouth closes. It was easily visible in his shaky eyes, his pursed lips, his scrunched eyebrows.

That is the first time Stiles kisses him outside the bed. It is soft and innocent, but Derek blushes anyways, looking at Stiles like he's some treasure. He tells the man that whatever he tells him, nothing will change the Derek that was in front of him. That he will always stay by Derek's side.

He always tells him about his memories after that. Always.

The first thing Derek tells him about is this big house. A mansion with a large white gate, hanging gardens, tall pillars, front-yard fountains, sculpted foliage. The house is his, he lives in it, he remembers growing up in it. He tells Stiles about his explorations as a child, just opening every door, looking through every room. He tells Stiles about a huge tree in the backyard that he used to climb all the time. He tells Stiles about the library that has no roof, just stained glass. He remembers being happy there. He doesn't remember anything like the address, or where it's located. Just pictures. Beautiful memories of such a very big house.  
-

When they are in bed one night, right before Stiles is drifting off into sleep, Derek tells him about this woman who has long brown hair and beautiful green eyes, just like him. She used to protect him from everything when he was little. She was tough and 'badass' as Derek says so eloquently. When he talks about her, he smiles. And at first Stiles feels stupidly jealous, but then he realizes that the girl is his sister. Derek doesn't recall her name, but he recalls the way her skin catches the sun perfectly when they play on the grass.  
-

Derek was on the high school basketball team. Captain. Derek was a jock.  
-

He apparently had a love for steak, and Stiles offers to take him out for dinner. When he does, turns out Derek doesn't like it so much now. He says he much rather eat Stiles' cooking any day.  
-

He tells Stiles about these large events he would always attend. Where everyone was dressed in the most expensive suits and dresses. Where old women who thought they were young would hit on him. He remembers being forced to put on a fake smile. He says he remembers them being boring to him, often being uncomfortable around rich and snobby people. Stiles wonders who Derek really is after that. He had to be someone big in the world. But how had someone big in the world disappear without anyone noticing?  
-

Her name is Laura.  
-

Derek is a momma's boy. He tells stories of running to mommy when his sisters (he had a younger one too, but he is still foggy on her) used to be mean to him. He tells stories of her tucking him into bed when he was little, always kissing him on his forehead. He tells stories of her always pushing him to be always greater. She never tells lies, and she is gentle but stronger than anyone Derek has ever known. He misses her. Stiles wishes to meet her one day.  
-

There are often memories that rattle Derek. Stiles deduces that these are memories of his torture. Derek doesn't tell him about them, he never does, but Stiles never really asks either. Pain like that should never be repeated, even through words. Those nights are the hardest.  
-

His first kiss was with a girl with blonde hair, white teeth, and grey eyes. It was innocent and chaste behind his middle school. Stiles asks if he loved her, and he says he doesn't know.  
-

It turns out Derek  _does_ have a cat. And it is fluffy and orange and  _grumpy._ Stiles forever teases Derek after that, calling him grumpy cat. Derek says he much rather be called a sourwolf. Stiles refuses, because Derek the Grumpy Cat was hilarious, and there is nothing better than picturing the two walking around and grump-ing together.  
-

Derek drove a camaro. A camaro. Black and shiny and beautiful. Derek describes it to him and Stiles purrs, because he loves a good car. He makes the man promise to take him for a spin in it, y'know, once everything is back to normal again. Derek only settles after Stiles promises to stop calling grumpy cat. He reverts back to sourwolf.  
-

Peter. Derek's uncle. Or dad. Or brother. He wasn't quite sure yet, but he does know that the man is snarky and sassy and that he only wore designer clothes. Ambitious and always craving to be higher up in the power ladder. He had a soft spot for his family.  
-

He has more memories of the blonde girl. Often they are both young in the memories, revealing years of knowing each other. Derek doesn't vocalize it, but Stiles can tell from the way he looks that they were also dating during these years. It stings him on the inside, but he doesn't say so.

The thing Derek and him had at the moment, whatever it was, it wasn't exclusive. And yes, they may have kissed a few times, but all have been in the spur of the moment, whatever felt right at the time. Neither Derek or him have talked about their relationship, never, they haven't really talked about what the kisses and cuddling even meant. For Derek, it was most likely a comfort thing, a coping mechanism, something just to help him with the trauma and fear. Whenever he was scared or broken, he found relief in Stiles' proximity. Stiles understood that, and he was all the way willing to provide that physical comfort for the man. Needless to say, the relationship wasn't exclusive. It wasn't romantic, and it wasn't special. At least for Derek.

But still, Stiles is scared. Scared every single time Derek brings up this blonde girl. Scared every single time Derek zones out for a minute, and then smiles with stars in his eyes. Scared that once that last piece of memory comes back to him, Derek will have to go back to his old life. And that old life could quite possibly have a certain blonde waiting for him.

It was childish, of course. Being jealous of a woman he didn't know, for a man he who owed him nothing. But Stiles had little shame, he knew he had no right to pine over a man who was most likely going to leave him very soon. That didn't mean he had no pride. When the day came, when Derek remembered everything, Stiles would let the man go. Until then, he'd have to focus on slowly building a wall between them.

He knew Derek has started to depend on him, started to find comfort and relief in Stiles. He also knew that he'd have to start letting the man know he was fully capable of being independent. One day, Derek was going to leave. He had to know he was fully able to take care of himself. Stiles couldn't always be a crutch for the man.

The wall was also for himself, however. Stiles had no clue what it was, but there was no doubt that the man meant something big to him. Something more. Something he was beginning to get attached to. No one had made him feel so .. alive. Stiles was a pile of ruins hidden beneath pale skin before Derek arrived. He had so many scars and wounds swelling inside of him.

Derek made him feel different. Derek made his broken bones feel like they could connect the stars. He made his palms feel strong enough to hold galaxies, his lungs wide enough to breath stardust. There were places inside of Stiles that were dark and cold and unreachable. Derek gave summer to those places. It was obvious that Derek had healed him much more than he healed Derek. Although it wasn't obvious to the man itself, the fact was very loud inside Stiles' mind.

There was a feeling inside of him. And the last time Stiles indulged in that feeling, he wounded up so hurt he was in the hospital for too, too long. So he wasn't going to indulge in the feeling this time. He was going to bide his time, and then let Derek go.

There were fears so thick inside Stiles that he was afraid he'd never be able to breath again.

Derek was a kiss of air. A kiss of air Stiles wasn't willing to take.

 

* * *

 

"What is it now? Find out you actually have no life?"

Derek shoots him a quick glare.

They are in the living room. Stiles is sitting on the carpet, back against a couch, legs stretched out under the coffee table. He is reading over some new intern profiles that will be working at the hospital. Derek is sitting in front of him, drawing on the couch, their feet touch as Stiles works.

He catches Derek zoning off into space, obviously remembering something.

Derek looks uneasy from the memory, which concerns Stiles, although he doesn't say say it. "No." The man replies, pursing his lips.

"Oh? Then what?" Stiles begins highlighting certain things as he reads, but still listens to Derek.

"It's nothing, really." Derek says modestly. He usually sounds like that when he assumes it's a memory Stiles will not like.

Stiles never says he doesn't like a memory, strictly because he told the man he wouldn't care whatever Derek's past was. Of course there were some things Stiles didn't like hearing, but he doesn't judge out loud.

"Tell me. You know I'm just gonna keep bugging you until you do." He bites his lower lip, always letting his curiosity get the best of him.

"It was about .."

There is a brief pause. Stiles looks up from his paperwork and raises his eyebrows at Derek. The man looks slightly uncomfortable.

"The same girl." He says quieter, eyes averting from Stiles.

There is an immediate twinge of jealousy inside his chest. He quickly looks down at the papers, trying to hide his displeasure of the memory. "Yea? What about?" He says through his clenched jaw. Stiles tries to remain interested in the conversation. It was important Derek verbalized his memories, and Stiles wanted to reassure him that he could tell him anything. Even if it made Stiles feel like crap.

"I don't think-"

"Derek, just tell me. Unless you don't want me to know?" Stiles resumes highlighting random lines on the profiles, his attention focused on Derek now. He tried to remain calm and normal in front of Derek.

"I dated her sophomore year of highschool." That was the most recent memory of them together, Stiles realizes. Derek had been telling him of memories of the girl ever since middle school. Obviously, it was starting to progress as Derek remembers more.

Stiles grips his highlighter tighter, feet starting to fidget back and forth. "That's cool. What'd you remember about her?" It seems Derek is still believing that he is interested in the topic, as he continues.

"Just some random ones. Eating lunch together. Cheering me at games." It sounds like Derek is sad from these memories. Either because he missed her .. or .. "Kissing in the hallways. That sort of thing." Stiles can't tell how much longer he can bare to hear it, so he formulates some kind of excuse to leave.

"That's cool. You miss her?" He didn't know why he was asking these things. Some kind of masochistic idiocy.

"I.." He can't bare to look up at Derek, afraid of what he may find.

"It's okay to say that you do, I won't tease you." Stiles bites his tongue, showing off a fake smile.

"I don't know." Is all Derek says. The man does look flustered, his eyes saddened. Sadly, 'I don't know' wasn't a 'no'.

Stiles closes the portfolios and sets down the highlighter. "Hey, I need to make a call. Be right back." He leaves abruptly, pulling his legs from under the table and walking over to the balcony door.

"But-" He can hear Derek standing too.

"I'll be back." He mutters before sliding the door open and stepping out.

The night air is cool, calm, silent. It's so different from what Stiles is feeling inside. He tries to breathe normally, tries to calm down. He was acting like this for no reason, and it upset him so much that his self control was absolute crap.

He pulls out his phone to call anyone, anyone to help him feel something else, something beside this toxic envy that was growing inside of him. His fingers tap on Isaac's name, remembering that he wasn't on duty tonight.

The phone rings three times before Isaac picks up.

"Hey loser, what's up?" The firefighter's voice is groggy, like he was sleeping.

"H-hey. Did I wake you?" He didn't realize that the time was a little late.

"Nah, I'm just laying in bed. Everything okay?" He knew Isaac was lying, and loved him for caring so much for Stiles.

He didn't really know what to talk about. "I'm using you." He says outright.

"W-what? What do you mean you're using me. We talked about this. Isaac is not a tool for you to use thank you very much. I am my own human be-"

"Please, Isaac." He says, more desperate than he wanted to sound.

There is a brief pause, and then Isaac's voice is serious. "What's wrong? Are you okay? Do I need to come o-"

Stiles begins to panic slightly, he didn't mean to worry his best friend. "No! I mean yes, I'm okay.I'm okay Isaac. I uh just, need you to come over to check my smoke alarm. I think the batteries are out."

That's the best lie he can think of at the moment. He usually can do much better.

His best friend sounds a little more relaxed, letting out a loud sigh. "Um. Okay? Yea, sure. I'll grab my jacket and be over ther-"

"No!"

"No..?"

"I mean, you can come over tomorrow. It's late and stuff."

"Stiles." He can hear the ruffle of fabric over the phone, Isaac getting out of bed.

"Yeah?"

"What's wrong with you?" His heart beats a little faster.

"Nothing Isaac. I guess I'm on a caffeine high, had two cups of coffee." Stiles tries his best to sound collected.

"..Okay. You need to lay off the coffee dude. You're always working so hard."

"Mm. Okay. Hey, thanks. I'll see you tomorrow buddy."

"Okay. G'night." Isaac hangs up, and Stiles lets out a loud sigh.

He rests his elbows on the ledge of the balcony, leaning over and just staring off into the sky. He didn't want to go back inside, the call with Isaac didn't really help at all.

This was stupid. He was stupid for feeling like crap. Derek was slowly realizing that he was in love with this blonde girl, and all Stiles can do is feel fucking jealous. He should be happy that Derek is getting his memories back, that he is remembering someone who loves him. Although 10th grade was a long time ago for Derek, there was a strong chance it lasted much longer than that. This was good. So why did it feel so bad?

The glass door slides open, breaking Stiles' train of thought. He doesn't look back at the man, but he doesn't have to, because Derek comes and stands next to him at the ledge. His heart skips a beat.

"Why you still out here?" Derek says softly, his demeanor has changed from inside. It's like he's disappointed or angry. Stiles feels like he's dealing with a different person.

"Sorry, bud. It-It just feels really nice outside, so I wanted to stay a bit. I was on the phone with Isaac ear-"

"I know." Derek says, his face neutral, staring off into space.

"What? You know?" He turns his head to look at the man.

"Yea. Isaac called me just now." His stomach twists. He should've known that Isaac wouldn't have fallen for his lies. His best friend never fell for them, especially when they were about Stiles' well being. In hindsight, it wasn't very smart to call Isaac.

"What did he say?"

"Asked if you were okay. If you were acting weird. And to keep an eye on you. He sounded worried." Derek turns to face Stiles, and suddenly he feels so small under the man's heavy gaze. He averts his eyes to look elsewhere. His fingers automatically start fidgeting. He grabs the ledge to stop them.

"I-"

"What's wrong with you?" Stiles deflates.

"Nothings wrong, I don't know why Isaac told you those things." He was lying through his teeth.

"Then why wont you look at me in the eye?"

Stiles doesn't say anything. He just wants to run away.

"Stiles."

"There's nothing-"

"Stiles!" The man growls.

"I'm a fucking selfish idiot, okay!?" He shouts, not caring that it was eleven at night and they were outside.

Stiles storms inside, slamming the glass door open as he tries to get away from Derek. The man chases after him, closing the door and grabbing Stiles by his arm.

"What are you talking about!" The man says. Stiles tries to pull away, but Derek is too strong. "Talk to me."

"You wouldn't understand." He replies quietly.

"I won't unless you tell me."

Stiles turns to face the man, looking up at his eyes. He doesn't say anything. It's not his place to say anything.

"One minute you're joking around and making fun of me, and the next you're sad and angry? What am I suppose to think Stiles?" Derek is looking at him, eyes shifting back and forth, trying to figure out what was wrong with him, what possibly could've triggered his behavior.

And then he get's it.

"Is this .. about?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm a selfish bastard who hates it when you talk about your girlfriend. I'm trash, okay Derek? Now let me go, just let me go." He starts pulling away again, hating how he feels on the inside. It feels like his ribs are broken glass. He hates it. He hates the stupid tears that threaten to come out.

Derek's grip is too strong. Stiles hated being weak.

The man pulls Stiles in, hand grabs the back of his head, pushing Sitles' face in his chest. He then wraps his arms tight around Stiles, nose burying on top of his hair.

He pushes Derek away, trying to get away from him. Derek is too strong, he holds on tighter, whispering little calming words into his skin. Stiles shakily wraps his arms around Derek, giving in to the warm touch. He places his face in Derek's neck and closes his eyes.

"I'm sorry." Derek whispers in such a soft voice, but it feels so loud against the edge of his ears.

"Don't. Don't be sorry for something that's not your fault." Stiles says. He hated that Derek was always apologizing to him for things he couldn't control.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop! Just stop Derek. It's my own fault." He pushes away slightly to look up at the man. Derek looked so sad, so broken, his eyes the darkest of greens. Like looking at Stiles like hurt him. "You have someone already and I'm being selfish. And it's stupid. And-"

Derek takes his hand and cups Stiles jaw, his fingers grazing his lower lip. "You're right. I do have someone."

Stiles bites his lip. His heart feels so pained hearing those words.

"And that someone just happens to be in my arms right now." Derek smiles softly, his eyes so heavy on top of Stiles.

His heart is pounding. What did he just say? "What did you just say?"

Derek licks his lips. "You, you idiot. I'm talking about you."

"But what about?"

"Shh." The man takes his thumb and wipes away the tears collected on the corners of Stiles' eyes. Derek swallows, eyes looking so hard at Stiles. "You're my someone."

Derek leans down, and kisses Stiles, soft and tender. Stiles presses his lips upwards, letting his mouth open so Derek's tongue can slip inside, and kiss him again. The top of his lip slips between Derek's mouth, they twist their heads, Derek's tongue sliding across him. He pulls Stiles in closer, his hands roaming down to rest on Stiles' ass. Stiles places his hands softly on Derek's chest, hands grabbing on the shirt.

Derek pushes his lips down harder, tongue inside his mouth, sliding across his teeth. He pulls Derek's bottom lip on top of his tongue, sucking softly and Derek moans into his skin. The kiss intensifies and Stiles is a moaning mess inside Derek's mouth.

Derek breaks apart and bends his neck down to kiss him on collarbone. Stiles moans from the touch, feeling Derek's tongue on his skin. Derek kisses upwards slowly, onto his neck, he stops to suck softly on the skin and Stiles closes his eyes from the pleasure. "God, Derek."

The man places a kiss on the bruise and rises again to insert his tongue into Stiles mouth. He sucks softly on Stiles' tongue before kissing him again.

The man pulls back, slightly panting, his face dazed. Stiles leans upwards and bites his swollen lips softly, before retreating back to look up.

Derek growls quietly, placing their foreheads together.

Stiles pants, staring up at the man. His heart is racing like crazy, Derek's taste on his lips and it's addictive, so addictive he can't even think straight.

That was the first time Derek kissed him just to kiss him.

"You drive me crazy." Derek says softly, his heavy breath falling onto Stiles' nose.

Stiles doesn't say anything, he just places his lips in the middle of the man's throat. Derek moans loudly as Stiles sucks on the skin there, his tongue licking softly at the bruise.

"As long as you know it." He says.

 

 


	7. Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rereading these chapters has made me realize how my writing changed as the story developed, sorry if it isn't so solid throughout the work. Well, this is my first fic ever, so I guess its alright. Thanks for everyone who's reading, kudosing, and commenting! You guys are the best.

“Um. What are you doing?”

Stiles rubs his eyes with the heels of his palm before dragging them over his entire face. Clearly, Isaac was in the center of his kitchen, standing on his nice counters with dirty boots on. At 7 in the morning.

Isaac crouches and looks up at him at the banister on top of the stairs.

The blonde gives him a smile and a wave, screwdriver in hand. Stiles wasn’t expecting to find a curly-haired firefighter in his kitchen this early in the morning.

“I’m fixing your smoke alarm.”

Stiles eyes widen. He had forgotten about calling Isaac last night. He fumbles for some sort of explanation, because Isaac was most likely confused to why his smoke alarm was just working FINE.

“Wait I-“

Isaac rolls his eyes and stands back up, poking and prodding at his smoke alarm. “Relax Stiles, don’t pee your pants. I already know you didn’t really call about your smoke alarm. You know I could tell if you were lying even if I was a senile 80 year old with alzheimers.”

He doesn’t argue because it was most likely true.  Issac had a thing for knowing when Stiles was lying.

Stiles begins stepping down the steps, scratching the back of his head. Isaac certainly didn’t seem to be pissed of at him, but still he took slow steps in favor of not being stabbed by a flying screwdriver. So Isaac knew he was lying, and he knew something was up, but he was still fixing the alarm?

“So .. why are you ..?”

“Why am I here? Or why am I fixing your smoke alarm?” Isaac doesn’t look at him while he unscrews things on the alarm.

Stiles walks into the kitchen, sees that Isaac already started a pot of coffee going, and helps himself to a large cup. Next to the coffee machine was Isaac’s spare key to Stiles’ loft. He leans against a counter as he watches his best friend work, swallowing a hot mouthful of caffeine. “Both.”

“Well, I was already planning on checking on your alarm this week, to change the batteries, anyways. So, no I didn’t fall for your stupid lie.”

Stiles grins, raising his eyebrows. “But my lie was pretty good wasn’t i-“

Isaac turns and glares at him. “No, your lie was shitty and if you try it again I will put bleach in the sprinklers and set your kitchen on fire.”

Stiles’ mouth drags open, not knowing if that was possible .. but he wasn’t going to challenge Isaac either.

“Duly noted. Won’t happen again, mister.”

Isaac hops off the counter, lets out a sigh and crosses his arms. The blonde has a knowing look on his face, and Stiles knows immediately that there is no escape from Isaac’s hawk eyes.

“So, want to tell me what’s wrong? And before you try and think of a lie, just know that I have Jackson on speed dial.” Isaac grins evilly and Stiles knows he isn’t bluffing.

Prick.

He hops on top of the counter, legs swinging back and forth. He stares down at the coffee, tapping his fingers against the mug to make ripples. His reflection distorts and he lets out a sigh. Where was he suppose to begin? Should he even tell Isaac about all of this mess? He certainly didn’t want to burden his friend, not like he used to all the time. There was no point in lying now.

He doesn’t look up from the ripples in his cup, but starts talking.

“Well, should I start with the fact that I might have an amnesiac upstairs in my bed .. or that I have developed certain strange and peculiar feelings for said amnesiac .. or the fact that I was being childishly jealous of some girl he may or may not be dating in his memories .. OR MAYBE you’d like to hear about the fact that the amnesiac called me his ‘someone’ last night before promptly shoving his tongue down my throat.” He says it rather quickly, not realizing that he was actually very nervous and that the mug of coffee was in a death grip in his fingers.

Isaac freezes, staring at him wide eyed.

Then he frowns. And looks angry. And Stiles swears he sees fire in his eyes.

“Wait- are you saying that son of a bitch forced himse-“

Stiles sets the mug down quickly, stepping up and placing his hands of Isaac’s shoulders. “Whoa there buddy! No one forced themselves on anyone! Calm down Hulk.” Isaac looked ready to storm upstairs and choke Derek to death. “I kissed him back. I-.” He bites his lip. “I like him, ‘Zach.”

He only uses the nickname when he really wants something from his bestfriend. And this time, it was his approval.

The blonde furrows his eyebrows, settling back down onto the counter, he has this unreadable face.

“Okay. You’re going to have to start from the beginning.” Isaac murmurs, ruffling the blonde curls on his head.

And so he does.

He tells him about how it started out as nothing. Nothing but a spark. And then that sparked turned into a wildfire.

He tells Isaac about the way Derek could make an empty body feel like so much more than hallowed bones and withered lungs. How Derek could feel the spaces of his ribs just by touching his skin. How after the first night, Stiles was already breathless from feeling Derek’s warmth sink into his flesh. How Derek was some kind of drug that you only had to look at to get addicted to.

How Stiles forgot he was broken, how he forgotten how many pieces his heart was made of. He told Isaac how he has never felt so alive. And he tells Isaac how he has never wanted to fix someone his entire life, how fixing Derek makes his bones feel like they can actually connect for once. Fixing Derek felt like fixing himself, and seeing Derek hurt was like poison in his veins.

He tells him of almost every incident. Every incident that has shifted Stiles’ heart in some way.

Seeing Derek cry and shake and tremble in his sleep, seeing Derek wake up shouting until his lungs had nothing left in them, it made Stiles want to scream. Seeing Derek writhe in pain from scars that have healed over time and time again, it made Stiles want to leave his own skin. Out of nowhere this man comes into Stiles life and makes him hurt but in the best of ways, makes him feel and makes him care.

And if anything ever happened to Derek, if he ever hurt the man ..

In no time his heart bleeds through his mouth, words spilling out in uncontrollable sentences. And he hasn’t said how he felt inside for so long to anyone, he hasn’t told anyone how darkly colored his heart has been. And then Isaacs arms are around him, holding him because maybe his breathing is labored and maybe his heart was beating a little too fast and maybe he was trembling.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay Stiles.” Isaac cradles him like he’s a broken mess, and maybe he was, but Isaac made it feel all right. The blonde rubs the spot behind his ear, because he knows it’s Stiles weak spot. And then he’s purring and time seems to slow back down again. “You’re okay man. I got’you, I got’you bud.”

He doesn’t even know what he said to Isaac, but the blonde looks at him like he’s derranged. Stiles takes this opportunity to be held by his friend, enjoying the proximity. Isaac drags them to the couch, offering his shoulder for Stiles head. They sit, Stiles’ hair tickling Isaac’s chin, side by side.

“Sheesh, Stiles, I haven’t seen you like this in forever. Scared the shit out of me. Don’t do that again.”

Stiles smiles nestling closer to his friend, he grabs the blonde’s hand because he fucking can, and he laces their fingers. They used to do this every time Isaac visited him at the hospital years ago. He knows Isaac hates it, but the blonde will let him do it or Stiles’ll start throwing a temper tantrum again.

There is a pause before Isaac says anything. “So you really like this guy, huh?”

“Well, if the hyperventilation or spilling of my heart doesn’t convince you, I don’t know what will.”

He stares out the window, the sun pouring onto the city softly, partially hidden by clouds. He can hear the city start to awaken, cars and people making sounds across the streets. Derek would wake up soon, and Stiles wonders if it’s the noise that wakes the man up so early.

“Well, the interesting looking hickie on your neck is a big neon sign for ‘Derek was here.’”

Stiles looks up at the blonde and laughs.

“Would you quit your job and just hold my hand for the rest of your life? I’ll pay you and you don’t have to run into burning buildings or deal with Scott.”

The funny thing is the blonde seems to contemplate on the offer.

“You know I love my job. But I’ll hold your hand any day.”

Stiles grins so wide his face threatens to snap, because that was the most out-of-character thing he had ever heard Isaac say. Before Stiles can even mumble anything, Isaac has realized his mistake.

“If you repeat those words to anyone, you won’t have hands for anyone to hold ever again.”

Stiles grins. “Sir, yes sir.”

It felt good. Telling someone how he actually felt for once. And he loved Isaac for not making a big deal out of it, because that was the last thing Stiles wanted for anybody. He hated burdening his friends with anything, ever since high school, he avoided it at all costs. Isaac seemed to understand this, and didn’t freak out like Stiles knew he probably wanted to.

“When’re you going to work?”

Isaac checks his watch and groans. “In about five minutes.”

“My hand-holding offer still stands.”

He can tell Isaac is smiling. “Yea, thanks but I rather save lives if you don’t mi-“

There is the creak of his bedroom door that reveals a tired sour wolf. The man drags his feet as he walkes out of the room. He turns and looks down to see Stiles and Isaac on the couch. The man seems to freeze as he takes in the two. His eyebrows furrow and he frowns like a grumpy kitty.

Stiles sits up off his best friend and waves. “Hey big guy. Isaac was fixing our sm-”

“Whatever.” Derek furrows his eyebrows and walks to the bathroom, the tips of his ears red.

Stiles raises and eyebrow and turns to his best friend.

“Is he always like that?”

“No, not really.”

And then the two both simultaneously look at their hands, fingers interlaced, skin touching. Stiles realizes how they must’ve looked. Head resting on shoulder, nestled closely, hands held. They both release each other immediately.

“Shit.”

Isaac stands and retrieves his keys. “In my defense, you were all over me.”

“You better not be leaving me!” Stiles half yells half whispers.

Isaac sticks out his tongue. “I’m sorry Stiles, I think that’s a kitty stuck in a tree calling out to me! I better go. Good luck with your uh- y’know, problem.” The blonde walks up to him and kisses him on the forehead before prancing out of the loft.

The door closes with a slam.

He hated Isaac.

A lot.

* * *

“Derek ..”

The man was pouring himself coffee in the kitchen, not looking anywhere in Stiles’ direction. He brings the cup up to his lips and drinks.

Stiles stands behind him, index fingers pushing against each other like a child. He was pouting and following Derek wherever he went.

“Derek ..”

The man picks up his mug and moves over to the breakfast bar. He hops up on the stool and grabs his phone. Stiles follows like a sad puppy, hopping up on the stool next to his. He scoots the bar stool so that they are touching thigh to thigh.

The man continues to look through his phone, which Stiles sees is some eBook.

“Hey .. what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” The man says, not looking at him. His fingers scroll through the ebook, and it makes Stiles nervous.

“There is something wrong. I can tell.” He places a gentle hand on Derek’s forearm. The man shifts his arm away and Stiles can feel his chest hurt. The man sets his mug down and walks off into the living room.

Stiles hops off the stool and follows the man. “You know Isaac right, you’ve met him?”

“Yes Stiles, I’ve met Isaac, I know who he is.” They stop at the door the balcony, Derek stares out into the city,  _still_  not looking at him.

“So you also know that he is my friend right? Just a friend?” Stiles inches closer, index fingers pressing against each other.

“Yea, sure.” He says nonchalantly.

“We’re good friends. And I was having a bad day yesterday and Isaac does this thing where he can sense when I’m feeling down, so he kinda came over and threatened me to tell him or there’d be bleach in our ceilings and I didn’t want that, because it totally wouldn’t be good for the furniture. I just bought the ottoman over there and the leather would totally not be bleach-compatible, if you know what I mea-“

“Stiles-” Derek starts.

He was rambling. Of course he was. Because Derek made him nervous. Especially when he was angry with Stiles. Angry Derek made him ramble. Because he didn’t want to say anything to mess up whatever they had, because it was still fragile. And yes, he was rambling in his head too.

“W-what I’m trying to say is that I was having a bad, bad day yesterday, and so Isaac made me tell him why. And so I did. Tell him. And it turns out I told him things I didn’t even tell myself yet, if that makes sense. And then I started realizing things and then remembering things and then I couldn’t breathe and so then I was on the couch and Isaac was holding my hand and-“

“ _Stiles_ -”

“I’m SORRY Derek, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, it was just a thing. Please don’t hate me.”

“Stiles!” Derek turns to him, looking him straight in the face, green and gold jewels in his eyes. “I don’t hate you. Now stop talking so I can fucking talk to you.” Stiles looks up at him, eyebrows furrowed. What he didn’t need was the weight of Derek’s beautiful eyes bearing down on him, because that just made everything  _worse_. Incoherent.

“It’s okay. You can hold other men’s hands.” He bites his lip. “Ok, I lied. You can’t hold other men’s hands or I’ll tear their throats out with my teeth.” Derek lets out a sigh before reaching an arm out and snaking it around Stiles’ waist, pulling him in. “Confession. I’m a jealous bastard.”

“I noticed.” Derek would stare daggers at any man who even tried to look at Stiles, which was a little scary and sexy at the same time.

Derek growls lowly.

“Okay, yep, being quiet.”

“I’m sorry. He’s your bestfriend and I shouldn’t be a jerk. I just woke up and you weren’t in bed with me and I kind of panicked for a second, because I thought you changed your mind. And then I walk out of the room and see you in the arms of another man. I may have overreacted. A little.”

Stiles feels his stomach burst full of butterflies. How did this giant furry lug make him feel like melting into a puddle? He just always said the right words and hell, he was so fucking cute. He was scared that Stiles changed his mind? He admitted he panicked?

So. Fucking. Cute.

Stiles smiles. He puts both arms on top of Derek’s shoulders, wrapping them around his neck. “I’ll never change my mind Derek.” He leans in and kisses Derek. Before Stiles can pull away, Derek is opening his lips and kissing Stiles back, pulling him back in. He could never get sick of the man’s taste.

They pull apart, swollen lips, a light flush on Stiles face.

“So, is there a policy on the man I can kiss too? Or..?” He jokes, leaning in so that their noses brush up against each other. Derek’s heavy breaths float on Stiles cheeks, and they feel warmer than any Spring breeze.

“Yes. You can only kiss me. Only me. I mean it.”

“Yes sir.” He says with a smile. And he leans in and kisses Derek again, feeling his stubble scratch him in the chin. Derek’s tongue is in his mouth, lips like the inside of a rose, with a grind of his hips Derek is moaning into his throat.

He definitely wasn’t going to change his mind any time soon.

 

 


	8. Foreign

It starts the next day.

The sketch book.

A regular sketchbook with a black leather cover.

Stiles comes home from work, Thai take-out in hand, to find Derek on the balcony. Stiles puts the stuff down and makes his way out.

Immediately, he can tell there is something wrong.

Derek is immersed in the book so deeply, his emotions clear on his face. Maybe Stiles never noticed, but that book was always somewhere near Derek. And he hadn’t even known where the man got it. Just that whenever he had it opened, the mood was heavy.

He opens the balcony door and Derek jolts his head up.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Everything okay?” Derek furrows his eyebrows. Stiles can tell he wants to say yes. And he also can tell Derek doesn’t want to lie to him. There is an internal war inside his head.

“No.” He says, choosing not to lie to Stiles.

Stiles makes his way to Derek, and the man automatically shuts the sketchbook closed, pushing it away. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.” Another war.

“Are you sure?” He sits down next to him, trying to read his face. They were doing so well yesterday. Hell, Derek kissed him and meant it. Everything was golden. He was happy. What changed in one day?

“Yes.”

“Der-“

“I don’t want to talk about it Stiles.” And then Stiles feels hurt, when he shouldn’t. Derek isn’t obliged to tell him anything. But still, he hurts. Just seeing him troubled felt wrong.

Stiles stands, turning to leave. “Okay, Derek.”

The man rapidly stands too, the chair pushed back so quick a scrape echoes. “Stiles, wait.”

He stands idle, fully aware of the way he was acting.

“I just .. I need time, okay?” How many wars?

Stiles doesn’t turn. He doesn’t want to see what Derek’s expression is. Or maybe he doesn’t want to show Derek his own expression.

“Is this because-“

“No. No. I just .. I need time.”

Stiles opens the door and goes inside.

Derek kissed him yesterday and meant it.

 

* * *

 

For the rest of the reek, the two move around each other differently.

Maybe Stiles is paranoid or maybe he’s overthinking, but it seemed like Derek had been avoiding him lately. And by avoiding, he meant acting like Stiles was the plague.

After the night of Stiles’ outburst, he seemed to see less and less of the man, which was impossible because the loft was only so big. And it was like Derek would know exactly where Stiles was at, and he made sure to be somewhere else. It feels strange because he was use to the man being in arm length away of him at all times. He was used to having Derek’s warmth and scent lingering next to him.

 So he does notice when Derek isn’t in the kitchen during the mornings with a fresh pot of coffee waiting. Instead he’s outside at the balcony table, sketching or reading or just staring. And he does notice that Derek is eating at different times as Stiles, and always at separate places. He even sums up the fact that the man doesn’t wait up for him at night. He’s already in bed, eyes shut. Either asleep, or pretending to be. They don’t touch, and Derek is gone in the morning.

Stiles doesn’t push it. He tries his very best not to. The man usually has on the expression that he easily defines as ‘I want time to myself’ or ‘I don’t want to talk about it’. So he gives him space. Suffocating and uneasy space . And he doesn’t ask about anything.

He doesn’t ask why Derek hasn’t looked at him for the past week, he only looks at the space around Stiles, like he is some void, or like he is invisible.

He doesn’t ask why they haven’t spoken any words. Stiles asks simple questions like ‘did you eat yet’, ‘are you okay’, ‘do you need anything from the store’. To which Derek answers yes, yes, and no. He doesn’t say anything more than that.

He doesn’t ask why Derek spends most of his days staring out at the balcony, occasionally sketching something in that notepad before promptly scribbling it out and crumpling the page. Instead, Stiles makes sure to wake up earlier to place a blanket or coat outside for him.

He doesn’t ask why everytime Stiles enters the same room as him, Derek stands up and leaves. Like he can’t stand being anywhere near Stiles. And it fucking hurts, but he doesn’t ask.

For the most part, he attempts to remain calm, to try and formulate some kind of logical reasoning behind the new behavior. To make up a thousand reasons why Derek just happened to start avoiding him after they kissed. Each and every reason makes absolutely no sense, but he does it anyways.

He attempts to not overthink anything, to not give into the beehive of questions that reverberate off his mind. He can’t help but feel the deluge of emotions that flood his head. Its so frightening not knowing, he hated not knowing.

 

* * *

 

Eventually he caves and asks Lydia, because she is allknowing and he was going to go insane and punch Derek out the next time the man answered him with a one syllable word or looked away from him or avoided his EXISTENCE one more time.

They sit over coffee at a quiet cafe near the hospital, and Stiles is fidgeting quite obviously. He knows it gets on Lydia’s nerves but he can’t help it.

He can’t help a lot of things lately.

Lydia is giving him blank glances, her eyes narrow, head tilted, lips pursed. Fingers with bright red polish are stirring sugar into her coffee. She’s thinking. Or debating. You never really know with her.

After he gives her a brief description of his dilemma, she sends him dagger eyes.

“So, you mean to say you called me out here because your boyfriend isn’t talking to you?”

He chokes on a mouthful of warm coffee. “Lydia! He isn’t my boyfriend!”

“Uhuh, yea, okay Stiles. And my IQ isn’t 180.” She mumbles sarcastically around the rim of her coffee cup.

He frowns. “Seriously!”

“But you two have kissed.” She says smoothly, without even a doubt.

His mouth gapes open, cheeks probably pink by now. A dozen questions pop up. “H-how did you know that!”

The redhead smirks so wide and Stiles knows he’s made a mistake right then and there. “I didn’t. But now I do.” 

He kind of feels like digging a hole and crawling into it for the next century. Lydia always succeeded in making him feel stupid. And mediocre. “Lydia-“

“Relax, Stiles. I won’t say anything. At least not yet.” She purses her lips again. “So you two had a little lover’s quarrel I assume?”

“Well, not really. I threw a temper tantrum, then he tried asking what was wrong and I yelled at him.”

She looks unamused. “I’m going to need more information than you being a diva.”

Stiles furrows his eyebrows and lets out a sigh. “You know how I told you he’s been remembering things?” She nods. “He remembers things like his house and his family and his .. life.”

“And?” Lydia observes him, fingers stirring her coffee.

“Well, there just happens to be reoccurring memories of a girl.”

She raises one eyebrow and squints her eyes. “Okay? What about this girl?”

“She ..” He knows it sounds like crap, and he knows this was so ridiculous and not worth Lydia’s time. “She and him dated back then.”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “Really Stiles? Really? You’re jealous of a memory?”

“I know! I know Lydia. I was stupid. So stupid.” She hums in agreement. “But it was just something about this girl. I don’t know I have a bad feeling. You know, the one in-“

“Your gut, yes, I am familiar with your strange psychic gut, as you so eloquently call it.”

“Yea! Well, it’s just..” He looks off into his memories of the past few days. “the way he looks when he thinks of her. Like he’s seeing things that are changing him.”

“And they probably are.”

“What if ..”

“What if he loves her?” She asks, her long eyelashes bat softly.

He doesn’t say anything. Because he had been asking himself that question far too many times in the past few days. What if he loves her?

“There’s something else.” She states, reading his mind.

“Well, while I was having my princess tantrum, he .. pulled me into his arms and kissed me. Kissed me, Lydia. With tongue. And teeth.”

She raises her eyebrows in surprise.

“And he said that he wanted me to be his someone. Me! Fidgety spaz Stiles Stilinski who has more coffee than blood in his body. He said that he wanted me to be his someone. Right after I yelled that I was jealous of some girl in his memories.”

“And then he started avoiding you.” She says softly.

Stiles looks down, feeling his stomach twist. “I guess he regrets his decision.”

Hearing himself say those words are actually wounding. He feels terrible at the realization. Stiles hating that feeling, the one where you disappoint someone you really care for. He pushed the boundaries and now Derek was reclining.

Lydia reaches over the table and places a gentle hand on his. “Or maybe you’re overthinking it. Like you always do, Stiles. He obviously has a thing for you. Everyone knows about you two.”

He looks up in surprise. “W-what?”

“You heard me. Your friends aren’t stupid- well, most of them are stupid, but they aren’t oblivious. You two have .. chemistry, you can say. Everyone sees it, well except Jackson, and you know Jackson will hate a rock if you cuddle with it, so that’s okay.”

He gives her a wide-eyed expression. She returns a faint smile and continues. “No one is talking to you about it. They’re waiting for you to come to terms with it, but we all think he’s healthy for you.”

This was all news to him. His friends knew? Stiles knew that his friends were always keeping an eye on him at all times, but he never thought they were so observant. Observant enough to see something he didn’t see himself.

“Healthy?” He asks.

She leans back and crosses her legs. “It’s been awhile since ..”

He cringes on the inside, already knowing what she is referencing too.

“Your last relationship.” She continues. “You pretend that you are fully recovered, and it may trick some people, but you can’t fool all of us.” Lydia never fears. She says what she wants because she knows she is right. She never makes mistakes. Not in the hospital, not anywhere else. She knows what to say even if it hurts.

Stiles can feel his heart race, lungs becoming thin under heavy ribs.

“We get it, Stiles. All your life all you’ve done is take care of us. When Allison’s mother passed, when Scott and Isaac lost Vernon, when Danny broke up with his ex, when Jackson found out he was adopted. When my parents divorced. You have been there. And you hate seeing us worrying about you. You got tired of seeing us like that, so you pretended to be okay. Eventually, you did, but you never fully recovered.”

Lydia reads him like a book. She reads him like there are letters stitched into his skin. He should have known better. You can’t fool the queen.

“You don’t get it. You don’t have to hide anything from us Stiles. We are here for a reason. To help you, just like you have for us.” She sighs. “What I’m trying to say is that, for once, we have actually seen you happy. We actually see you smile. And do you know why?”

He looks up at her. She pauses for a second, letting Stiles guess in his head.

“Derek. Ever since he came in, you seem to be happier and happier with each passing day. And it’s the real kind of happiness, not the facade. And that caught all of our attentions, setting aside Jackson.”

“I didn’t .. I didn’t know ..”

“And that’s okay. But now you do.”

“So you think I’m overreacting?” He asks, voice a little rasp.

“I think you should stop worrying. You always think things are your fault, when they aren’t. Give him some space and some time. His mind is broken glass right now. In time, he will come to you. In the meantime stop beating yourself up.”

And so he does.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t attempt to look for Derek, or ask him any questions.

He tries to just go about his day normally, doing things he’d do when Derek wasn’t here.

And it’s annoying when he knows Derek is just a room or two away, but he still feels alone. He had abandonment issues, or something like that.

He does notice that Derek isn’t sleeping as often, or at all, in fact. And when he sees the man for those few seconds, he looks miserable. It takes a lot of self control from going up to the man and asking him what the fuck was going on and why he looked like shit and why he wasn’t sleeping anymore.

A lot of self control.

He starts to shadow Derek, staying a room beside him, staying awake. It was like a silent protest to make Derek go to sleep.

At first, it doesn’t really work. He knows Derek notices him, because whenever he changes rooms, Stiles does too, following to the closes one nearby.

It’s a weird feeling, more annoying than weird, but still: having something that makes you so happy for a while, and then having that feeling something stop. It’s like an addiction. Except that there’s no physical substance he can consume, he can’t get his hands on it, but the emptiness just craves. It’d be absurd to say he missed Derek, because Derek was just feet away from him. It was weird.

Bottomless glass of scotch.

Stiles had never been so thirsty in his life.

Eventually, it does work. And by that time Stiles is so tired he could fall alseep at a heavy metal rock concert. During an earthquake.

He is sitting on the couch, knees up against his chest, arms around his legs. Derek is in the balcony again, eyes focused off into the sky. There are paper balls around him, like fallen leaves during autumn.

Every so often, the man glances at him, or rather, the space he occupies, and scowls.

After a couple of hours, he comes back inside and walks up the stairs. Stiles watches the man pass right by him, not even looking at his direction.

Derek pauses at the top of the spiral staircase and whispers.

Stiles almost misses what he says. It’s so quiet and he hasn’t heard that voice in days.

“Are you coming?”

He probably looks like a kicked puppy, scrambling on to his feet and cautiously walking up the stairs. When he gets to the top, his heart is a train wreck, beating so loud he’s sure his neighbors can hear it. Derek keeps his back to him, but this is the closest he’s been in one week, four days. (He didn’t count.)

The room doesn’t smell like Derek much anymore, and it’s strange that Stiles’ own scent is more foreign to him than another persons.

Derek settles into his side of the bed, feet under the covers. Stiles slowly makes his way over to the other side, he lays down and faces Derek’s back. He traces the shadows of Derek’s muscles with his eyes, as they show through his shirt.

His heart was beating so loudly.

“Derek?”

The man doesn’t say anything, so Stiles just turns around and faces the other direction, their backs facing each other.

Was it naive to say his heart hurt?

It is then does he hear the ruffle of fabric, and then the shift of limbs. And then Derek’s arms are around him, pulling him into a strong chest. And then warmth invades every inch of his skin and he feels like summer is melting into his pores. Derek’s stubble is scratching the nape of his neck, and it’s like he feels like gold.

“Stiles..” God, did he want to hear Derek say his name again.

“You don’t have to say anything-“

“I want to explain. Explain why I’ve been acting like this.”

“Not right now.” He whispers, feeling Derek’s heavy breaths paint across his neck.

They lay like that for a few minutes, both awake. He tries to focus on Derek’s breathing, on his warmth, on his scent. Its so intoxicating, like his body has been starved for years and now it’s being filled again.

Derek shifts slightly, his forehead softly against Stiles’ neck. “I’m a fucking mess, Stiles.”

He can feel the weight of Derek’s words.

“No, you’re not.”

“I am.” He says, voice on the verge of breaking.

Derek pulls him in tighter, and Stiles places a hand on Derek’s. He wonders if the man can feel his heartbeat.

“I ..” Derek was trembling. Shaking. Stiles turns around, flipping over so he’s face to face with Derek.

And it’s been far too long since he’s drowned in those green eyes. It has never felt so good to not breathe before.

He places his hands on the man’s jaw, letting him know he can take his time.

“I .. remember.”

It’s so dark in the room, but Stiles can see the pain on his face.

“What, Derek?” The man’s arms are still wrapped around him, his fingers digging into Stiles’ back. It hurts, like Derek is trying his best to remain still.

His mouth trembles. “Kate.”

The single word feels so heavy it could sink the sky. That same name was branded into Stiles’ brain. He’d heard Derek scream it time after time after time.

“You remember what she did to you?” Stiles whispers, knowing anything louder will shake Derek.

Had Derek finally remember everything that that woman ever did to him? Did he remember the pain of being beaten over and over and over again? Did he remember where those burn scars came from? Did he remember what it felt like to be starved? To kneel so much that there are scars on his knees? To be sexually abused?

He shakes his head, tears in the corners of his eyes.

“I already remembered that.” He says quietly, so quiet it matches the sound of rain against glass.

Stiles feels his chest quiver. If those memories hadn’t been what broke Derek this much .. then what possible could it have been? What else could hae shaken Derek to this point?

“T-then what?”

He is so afraid of what is coming next. It feels so big, it feels so terrifying. He doesn’t want to know, but it feels like he needs to know to live.

“Kate. Kate is the name of the girl from my memories. The blonde one. The one I loved.”

And it feels like Derek breaks in Stiles’ hands.

And Stiles can feel himself break as well.

It hurts.

It’s like he can’t breathe.

He tucks the man’s head in his chest and wraps his arms tightly around him. As tight as he can. Because that’s all he can do to keep Derek from shattering into pieces that are unrecognizable.

Derek cries.

The woman he loved. The woman he trusted and loved did this to him?

He can feel the bile threatening to rise up his throat. He can feel the eruption of anger that wants to peel back his skin. It stings, the anger. It stings to know that the man Stiles cared so much for was broken in his arms. It hurts to even think about what Derek been through, and how he may never recover.

Derek wraps his arms around Stiles’ torso and clutches onto it, and his cries are silent, so silent Stiles can feel himself go deaf from the quiet. And he hates that he can’t do anything but hold him.

Shaky breaths are pulled into quivering lungs, hot tears soak into Stiles’ shirt and it feels like fire against his skin.

He kisses the top of Derek’s head, whispering, whispering because he will break soon enough. “It’s okay.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay.

 

 


	9. Names

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all my new readers, Kate is NOT an Argent in this fic. Just in case you didn't see in the tag. I did this to avoid any relationship with Allison. It's lame, I'm sorry.
> 
> Thanks for reading <3 Leave me a comment and it would make my day.

Derek falls asleep eventually. After the tremors leave the coasts of his limbs, after the tears like fire have emptied his eyes. He clings onto Stiles still, fingers probably leaving bruises on his hips. Stiles can still feel the burn of Derek’s touch on his body. His skin aches from witnessing the grief that has been inside Derek. Seeing the man hurt did terrible things for him. It made him feel sick.

He slipped away after realizing that sleep wasn’t an option anymore. After Derek fell into a deep enough sleep.

He couldn’t lay there and stare up at the ceiling anymore. All he could see were scary images surfacing. He couldn’t close his eyes, because there were nightmares there, too. Couldn’t marinate in the anger that boiled up inside of him, or the pool of grief beside him. He needed air.

The balcony was his best escapade, and he sat idly there. He wanted to call someone, talk to anyone, but it was far too late and he didn’t want to wake his friends. All he had was the night sky, and he had been far too familiar with it in the passing weeks.

There was a time he was like Derek. Beaten into ruin. Was this how it felt? For his friends? For his dad? Suffocation from constant worry, but this hunger to keep worrying. Keep worrying until everything was okay again.

It’s a terrible feeling.

 

* * *

 

Hours had passed. Enough to see the dark sky bleed into morning, as the sun slowly rose from horizon. Pink starting to melt away the stars and the moon, and Stiles was glad for the slow warmth.

He sat still, in the same spot for a long time, doing nothing but stare at the silent sky, and listen to the loud thoughts in his mind.

Kate. That was the loudest thought.

The name echoed in his skull.

He needed her to be locked up. He needed that sick and twisted stupid excuse for a human being locked away. He needed her to never, ever see daylight again. Someone like that doesn’t deserve to be free.

He needed for her to never show her face to Derek again. Not even in his memories.

How could she? The way Derek loved her? Stiles could see it so clearly when the man would remember her. He was so happy, his eyes the lightest of greens. Like a pocket of spring had surfaced in his eyes, in his skin, when he thought of her.

He described her beautiful blonde hair, the way it would dance in the wind.

He described her clear smile, the way it would clear his mind.

He described her touch, her hands, her skin.

Stiles hated every second of it, but there was no denying that Derek had something beautiful with her.

Apparently not.

But why? Was she lying the whole time? What made her turn? Why did she do it? There were so many questions in his head he wanted to just scream until the sky broke. He wanted to tear his skull open.

The book. On the table. The sketchbook. He sees it and curious fingers grasp it’s leather cover. Derek spent hours upon hours out here. Drawing in this book.

He shouldn’t have, but Stiles opened it.

The first page isn’t pictures, but words.

1\. “I don’t see her face. I  only hear her voice. It’s sweet and soft at first. As it caresses me. As it whispers in my ear, and I feel good, happy that the pain has stopped. Her words don’t make sense, but anything except the fucking pain is good. Please let the pain stop. You expect it to eventually to go numb, but it never does. It never does. It demands to be felt.”

Stiles feels reluctant to flip to the second page. He notices that most of the pages are ripped out.

2\. Surprisingly, its a drawing of the view from the balcony. The sketching and shading was perfect. In the corner it says “I miss him”. The words have been erased and rewritten a couple of times.

5\. “The pain. It’s fucking unbearable. It comes and comes again and when I think I can’t take anymore, it stops. And then it’s back. I want to die. I want to die so bad but she knows when to stop. I hate her for that.”

There is a large section of torn out pages.

12\. “Her hands on my skin. It doesn’t hurt. It feels-it feels good. She kisses me. I hate that I like it.  Her lips flicker across my skin and her hands touch me. I want to know who she is. I want her to save me from the pain. Can she make the pain stop?”

13\. “After she is done, she hurts me again. And I forget how good it felt.”

17\. “There’s more than pain. There’s betrayal. There’s this feeling in my lungs and it makes it so hard to live, but I’m clearly breathing. She lets me breathe. As long as I scream.”

18\.  “My head is a fucking mess. I can’t even hear myself think. Too many voices. Too many pictures. I want it to stop. The voice that tells me to be quiet, to be still as the pain rips me apart. It sounds so familiar. She tells me to be quiet, and I do. But then she tells me to scream. And I do.”

20\. It’s a drawing of a family. A tall man with long black hair, he looks like an older Derek. He is masculine and handsome, he matches Derek almost perfectly. The scrubble, the muscular build, the jaw. A woman beside him, beautiful with dark hair, under her is the name ‘Talia, Mom.’ She has kind eyes and she stands with pride. Two shorter girls stand on either sides. The older looking one is labeled ‘Laura.’ The shorter one is labeled ‘Cora.’ The man has a question mark under his picture followed by ‘Dad.’

23\. “I miss you. I miss your touch. I miss your kisses. I miss your smell. I miss the way you make me feel. I’m not broken when I’m with you. I’m fixed, normal. You make me feel human. I want to kiss you, to hold you, to be with you. I want to protect you, to know you.”

24\. There is a portrait of Stiles. He is sleeping on the couch outside the balcony. It’s impossible to remember which day this was, because whenever he wasn’t at work he was on that couch waiting for Derek. The drawing is perfect, shading and contouring making Stiles look so much more beautiful than he really is.

25\. “I wish I wasn’t broken.”

27\. “The painful memories keep coming back. It makes me want to rip off my skin. She forces me to kiss her, to taste her lips. She forces me to be inside her, to pleasure her. I hate that my body betrays me. At least she won’t hurt me that night.”

29\. “She has blue eyes.”

32\. Another drawing of the balcony, this time at night.

35\. “I remember Kate. Her strawberry blonde hair. She made me so happy back then. Where is she now? I have no memories of her after high school. I wish she was here. I wish she could save me from this woman.” Stiles feels bile rises up his throat.

36\. There is a half portrait of ‘Kate’. Just her face and hair. No eyes, mouth, nose. There are scribbles and erase marks, like he was trying to figure out what she looked like. Stiles feels like ripping the page into shreds, he wants to feel Kate tear under his fingers.

37\. “It’s hurts and I want to cry, but I can’t.”

40\. “He watches me. Sits and watches me as I wallow in my own ruin. I wish he would see a part of me that was actually whole, that was actually beautiful. How badly I want to just go to him and kiss him and tell him everything.”

41\. “I can’t tell him everything.”

43\. “Things are getting clearer. And I wish they weren’t. I hate my own skin. It burns with the return of each memory that gets clearer and clearer. Her words are so loud in my ears. She calls me terrible names.”

60\. “And I realize that she has blonde hair. Strawberry .. blonde hair.”

61\. The page has dried up marks. Tears.

63\. “Why? Why did she do it?”

64\. “Why Kate? How could you?”

65\. “I think I loved her. So much that I was blind. So blind that she made me leave everything I cared for. She made me go with her. She told me she loved me after each step I took. I stepped away from my house. My family. She told me she loved me.”

66\. “She didn’t.”

70\. A page full of scribbles and scratches. There is a faint outline of Kate behind it.

71\. “I miss Stiles.”

72\. “I need Stiles.”

80\. “Will he leave me too?”

81\. “Will he hate me too?”

82\. “Will he hurt me too?”

85\. “Please don’t hurt me.”

90\. “You’re all I have left.”

100\. “Broken in your arms.”

 

* * *

 

After Stiles finishes crying into the damn book, crying until his eyes go dry, the sun is finally up and the sky is bright and colored, and he wishes it was night again so he wouldn’t have to face the day.

At this point he has emptied out most of his frustrations and grief through tears, so really all that’s left is a sleep deprived body.

Derek is still in bed, stirring awake when Stiles reenters his room.

The man wakes, hand searching for Stiles in the bed. When it finds nothing, Derek jolts upwards.

“Hey, hey bud.” He whispers. Stiles climbs into bed and sits next to the man. “I’m here. I was up and didn’t want to disturb your sleep.”

Derek’s eyes roam quickly over Stiles’ face, like he’s looking for something. He looks a little scared, almost pouting.

Stiles places one hand on Derek’s cheek, feeling the warmth and scruff against his palm. He offers a smile, hoping it cheers the man up.

“How’d you sleep my sourwolf?”

Derek looks down a little, away from his eyes. “Good. Better.”

He raises Derek’s chin gently, so that their eyes meet just for a second.

Stiles closes them and leans in, catching Derek’s lips against his. He shouldn’t be doing this. Derek was recovering from an abusive relationship. But his entries in the book. He wanted Stiles. He needed Stiles. This was all probably a rebound for the man. Derek was doing this so that he could heal, he was using Stiles as a means to forget and get better. He needed physical distraction. Stiles understood if Derek was just using his presence as a coping mechanism.

And he doesn’t fucking care. Derek can use him all he wants. It’s reckless, but he can’t bare to see Derek hurt again.

The man easily melts into it, kissing back, opening his mouth so that he can taste Stiles. He opens up, feeling Derek against his lips, against his tongue. He pulls away to stare into those green eyes.

Stiles didn’t know what Derek was feeling. Pain. Betrayal. Grief. He was scared, only because he didn’t know how to help. There was nothing worse than not being able to help someone that was in so much pain.

And this wasn’t like any of his patients where he can heal the body.

Derek was broken on the inside. Lydia was right, the man was broken glass. But he would rather have two bloody hands than sit back and watch Derek cut himself. Stiles was going to do whatever he could to help Derek.

He was going to help him remember. His family. His house. His friends.

He was going to bring Derek back, he was going to bring the strong Derek back. Stiles knew that man was there, and he knew that there was strength inside the man. Derek was strong enough to overcome this, and Stiles was going to make sure he was here for ever second of it. Bloody hands or not.

“Do you hate me?” Derek asks.

Stiles leans in and inserts his tongue into the man’s mouth, and he groans loudly. “How could I hate you?”

“I avoided you.”

“Yea. For eleven days straight.”

“You count-“

“I don’t hate you.” Derek looks hopeful. “Haven’t I told you that I will never hate you, Derek?” He pushes the man onto his back, and tucks his head into Derek’s neck. The man wraps his arm around Stiles’ body and pulls him in closer.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why don’t you hate me? I’m broken and damaged.” Why did Derek keep thinking he hated him? There was nothing to hate. Nothing at all.

Stiles kisses Derek’s neck. “We are all broken and damaged in some way.”

“Not like me.”

“Derek.”

“Yea?”

“How do I make you feel? When I’m in your arms.” He pulls upwards to whisper in Derek’s ear. “When I kiss you.”

“W-what?”

“Answer me.”

Derek takes a few moments to gather his thoughts. Stiles isn’t sure if the man is trying to figure out himself, or if he is trying to word it right. He doesn’t mind the silence, because it is filled with Derek’s warmth and his heartbeat.

“You make me feel whole. Like I’m not shattered into a fucking million pieces. You make me happy.”

Stiles pulls himself up sitting up to straddle Derek, so he can look at him in the eyes.

“That’s why I don’t hate you.” He smiles wide. “Because you make me feel the same way. I have scars too, Der. They may not be like yours, but I’m not whole either. Cute baristas aren’t the only thing you’ll have to worry about.” And then Derek smiles.

In one pull of from Derek’s arm, Stiles collapses onto the man’s chest, nose to nose.

“Would you stop calling him cute?” And then Derek’s mouth is on his, his lips sucking on Stiles’ tongue, stubble scratching at his chin. Derek tasted like a glass of wine, Stiles could never think right afterwards. Twisting heads, lapping of tongues, kisses to the nose, eyebrow, mouth.

“I can’t believe you counted the days.”

And then gets off the bed, getting him a whine.

“The cute barista would’ve thought it was cute.”

And that gets him chased down the hallway.

 

* * *

 

“You remember?”

“I do.”

“You .. remember.” Stiles repeats, his eye incredulously wide. Derek sits in front of him. They’re out of the house, at some burger joint. Stiles thought it would be good to escape the loft, get some fresh air.

Derek still seemed very shaken. But at the same time he seemed like a totally different person. There is a different look in his eye, there is a different way he moves and speak. He thinks before he talks, his brows are tensed and furrowed.

Derek remembered everything. His past. It all came back to him that same week he remembered Kate. He remembered it all, this was it. The look on Derek’s face was unreadable. He seemed to be running his mind over every single memory, maybe making sure they were there, or happy that they were finally back.

He barely looks at Stiles, or touches his food. He is inside his head, thinking, thinking, thinking. In one week he remembered his entire life, and that could not have been simple in any way. Stiles wants to ask, he wants to ask about every single thing about Derek’s life, because he wants to continue being a part of it.

It was a selfish thought. But he would stay next to Derek until the man didn’t need him any more.

“Yea. Everything.” It was only a few days ago was Derek sobbing in his arms, remembering the girl who he loved more than anything was the one who betrayed him.

Derek was so quiet. It was understandable. His thoughts were probably so loud. He remembered the torture .. and the love .. and the betrayal .. and his family .. and his work .. and his past .. and his kidnapping. All in one week. There was no doubt an overload was happening in his brain at the moment.

“Well, can I .. can I know your name?”

Derek looks up at him, his eyes a storm of emotions Stiles cannot read.

“Hale. Derek Hale.”

Stiles eyes widen. He knew that name. From somewhere. Somewhere..

Immediately he is surging for his phone, googling the name Hale and gasping at the results. He reads a quick article, looking back up at Derek, who doesn’t waver. He knows it too. He remembers, of course.

“The Hale Company. One of the top financial service businesses in the nation. Your family changed the entire marketing world in just a decade! Hale Enterprise is the face of marketing, advertisement, and financial services. They’ve even made technological medical innovations. Dude, you’re like a millionaire.” His mind goes through a thousand thoughts, right here, in front of him, was a part of one of the richest families in the entire country.

“B-but wait. If you’re the son of the CEO of Hale Company .. why has no one put out a missing report? Why is no one looking for you?”

Derek looks up at him with sad eyes. He looks so pained by Stiles question, and Stiles wants to bite his tongue.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you-“

“I ran away.”

Stiles pauses.

“You what?”

“I left. My family. The company. I left. Because of Kate. She made me leave, told me if I loved her .. that I would go with her. And I did. It turns ou she .. lied.”

It hit Stiles like a bag of bricks. Kate .. Kate was after the company this whole time. She didn’t love Derek. She pretended. She lied. She ..

How could she?

How could she just use Derek?

How could she make Derek love her .. and then betray him? Torture him? For money? There was no lower than this. There just wasn’t. She was below hell, she was so far past it that Stiles couldn’t even call her human anymore.

“What’s her last name.” Stiles says through clenched teeth.

Derek hesitates. “What?”

“What's her last name Derek!” He shouts, feeling anger flood his bones. The stares from others are unregistered. He only wants to put this bitch behind bars.

“Surgent.”

Stiles press speed dial 1 on his phone. Jackson picks up almost immediately.

“Jacks.”

The blonde knows something is wrong.

“Stiles? Are you okay?“

“Jackson. I need you to arrest someone for me.”

The blonde doesn’t even hesitate. He doesn’t even ask any question. “What’s the name?”

“Kate. Kate Surgent.”

 

 


	10. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little reminder that Kate isn't an Argent in this fic.
> 
> Also more thanks to my lovely readers~

“Derek Hale.” Scott is speechless.

 In fact, they all are.

Stiles called a family meeting around 6 A.M.and they all have been sitting around his kitchen table ever since. He thought it would be a good time to explain things to his friends, but also he needed them here, to keep him sane. Danny and Jackson were more here for police business, asking ‘official’ questions so they could file the claim.

Danny is on the phone with another officer, Jackson is on the police radio, Lydia and Allison are sitting around the table, and Isaac and Scott are standing nervously. They all are trying to take in the situation, and it looks like they are doing much better than he was.

“This is crazy.” Scott, who seems to be verbalizing all of their surprise, says. It was probably the fifth time he’s said that.

“I didn’t even know he was missing. There wasn’t a single article saying anything about it.” Allison states, finally breaking her silence. “I mean, wouldn’t they want to look for him?”

Lydia replies without blinking. She has been staring off into space for awhile now. “That’s because he wasn’t missing. He left.” How Lydia knew that, Stiles didn’t have a clue. She always seemed to figure things out.

She looks up at Stiles, and then they all do, to confirm.

Stiles just nods. “It’s a long story. I won’t elaborate until Derek gives me permission .. Just know that this Kate bitch is the worst person to ever exist.” That was mildly putting it. There weren’t enough words to describe Kate. He still felt this anger boil at the bottom of his stomach whenever he thought of her.

“This is messed up.” Isaac mutters and they all seem to agree. “But why would she do all this? His entire family knew about her. Wasn’t she afraid they would turn her in after?”

“She didn’t expect him to escape.” They look up at the officers. “That’s how these situations usually work.”

Danny ends the call and the two officers walk to the table, each looking neutral. Danny speaks first. “We set out an APB. We are working on tracking her. Seems as though she’s off the grid. Hasn’t been using anything traceable for quite some time.”

He sighs. Of couse she wasn’t. Cause she was smart. And manipulative. And that scared Stiles. Knowing that she was still out there. That she could be looking for Derek, that she could hurt Derek.

“Has Derek been in contact with his family?” Danny asks. “We are forced to give them a call. We’ll also have to bring Derek in for questioning soon.”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, not yet. He was going to go with me today. To the house. He wasn’t abducted .. technically, so it’s not like they’ve been looking.” He says quietly.

They had been putting off seeing Derek’s family for a couple of days now. Derek almost decapitated Stiles for getting the police involved so quickly. By doing so, he was forced to face his family sooner or later, seeing as they would be notified. The police would be going to the Hale family and questioning them soon enough.

Stiles didn’t understand at first, why Derek was so reluctant on seeing his family. Wouldn’t he have missed them?

He spent so long away from them, hurt and pained. He missed them. Stiles remembers the drawing in the sketchbook. He remembers Derek’s memories of them. He loved his family, Stiles knew it. It was hard to understand why Derek didn’t want to go see them, now that he remembered everything.

He then realized that Derek was ashamed. He left. In their eyes, Derek found a girl and left with her, leaving them behind. In their eyes, Derek left and hasn’t contacted them for months. They could have all the rights to be angry with Derek.

Derek thought he betrayed his family, he didn’t want to go back to face them. How could he?

It took a greater toll on Derek, if that was even possible. The man was already so sad and down, it was hard to believe he could get any worse. Was he scared that they would deny him? That they would not accept him back?

Danny clears his throat. “Chief Stilinski is coming upstairs now. We were forced to tell him.” Stiles nods at Jackson. The blonde kept giving him glances, like he was trying to make sure Stiles was there and that he was okay.

“Yea. Yea, okay, I understand.” He didn’t want to get his dad into this, but it was unavoidable, seeing as he was chief of police. He didn’t want his dad to worry for him anymore, he had done it for far too long. It hurt Stiles to see his dad worried for him, crying for him. When he was hurt, his dad never left his side, he would make sure everything was okay. The man didn’t want another part of his family to disappear.

He wanted to prove to his dad that he was better now, he could be independent. Pulling his dad into another one of Stiles’ problems made him feel terrible. But there was no other way to get Derek help.

Lydia rises from her seat, red locks falling onto her shoulders. “My shift starts in ten minutes. I will tell Chief that you’re taking your vacation days. Call if anything happens.” With that she leaves, not trying to get him any reassurance. He knew that she didn’t want to crowd him, and that she believed he would be alright. He appreciated the space.

And with that, everyone else seemed to scatter as well.

“Isaac and I too, bud.” Scott comes over and pats him on the shoulder and give him a hug. “I’ll call you.” Stiles nods and receives a kiss on the forehead from Isaac. His two best friends leave, they were already partially dressed in their fire uniforms.

Allison gives him the sweetest of smiles. “Gotta go to work. I’ll come by later with some food, kay?” She pulls him in for a hug and he indulges in her floral scent. He hums an affirmative and walks her out the door.

Turning he sees the two officers still in the kitchen.

Danny looks tired, leaning against the counter, his arms crossed. Jackson just looks grouchy, brooding in the center. They wait until the door shuts and Stiles is back in the kitchen before talking.

“What are you doing here, Stiles?” Jackson asks, looking blankly at the wall.

“What do you mean?” He replies, walking up to the duo.

“I mean, what are you planning on doing now? Now that he remembers everything.”

“Like I said, we’re going to see his family. And then .. I don’t know.” It depended mostly on how Derek’s family would react. If they accepted him, then .. Derek would move back into his house. If not, then Stiles would keep him at the loft. There is a voice in the back of his head that doesn’t want Derek to leave. But that is selfish and he immediately scolds himself for thinking it.

“Do you need us there?” Danny says, leaving the counter to walk over to Jackson. “We can give them the full report on what happened. Maybe it will make things easier?”

Stiles considers it. “No, no I don’t think that will be good. I think you should run a follow up, but after Derek meets his family again. I don’t want them to be repressed because you guys are there. We need to see how things work out.”

Danny gives him a look that asks if he’s sure, but Stiles nods in reply. He pats Stiles on the shoulder before ducking out the room with his ‘call me’ goodbye. The moment he is gone Jackson sighs.

“You shouldn’t be doing this.” Jackson says, his piercing blue eyes look straight through him.

“What?”

He looks away, putting on that cold face of his. “That woman is still out there. You shouldn’t be around him.”

He was worried.

“Jackson.”

“Stiles, she seduced him, abducted him, and tortured him for _months_. This isn’t a joke.”

“And no ones laughing! I know this is serious. But I can handle myself.”

The man whips his head to look at him, the faintest hue of fear in his eyes. And, then, Stiles already knows what he’s thinking about.

He didn’t like to think about his last relationship. Merely because it took too long to forget about it, too long to recover from it. It made his friends walk on glass around him, and he hated that. He hated that so much. Jackson always has this coldness in his eyes, like he can’t risk looking weak before Stiles. He always had to be the strong one, so that Stiles never had to be.

Stiles already can see the way Jackson looks at him. He’s picturing all the scars on Stiles body, he’s remembering every inch. No one knew them better than he. He was always so worried.

But this wasn’t like last time.

Derek wasn’t like that.

“I’ll be careful, Jackson. I promise.” He walks up to the man, placing a gentle palm against his cheek. And he knows the man hates being touched, but Jackson stays. He stays and watches.

“Anything happens, you press 1 on your phone. I’ll be there.”

Jackson makes his way to the door, pulling out his cell phone to answer a call. He gives Stiles a single look before leaving through the door.

The kitchen is quiet after that.

This was all happening so fast.

Kate was being looked for. Derek remembers everything. They were going to see his family today.

He barely had time to breathe, barely anytime to think. What if things went wrong? What if Derek’s family denied him? What if they hated him? What if Kate couldn’t be found? What if she came back?

What if Derek left him?

 

* * *

 

“From the beginning.”

His dad. Leaning against the counter, mug of coffee in his palms, eyes narrow and sharp.

“The beginning beginning or just the beginning, because there are multiple ways to approach this situation. I could start from the beginning in the woods or just the beginning of the-“

“ _Stiles_.” The ‘stop-rambling-before-I-smack-you’ voice.

“Right.”

Explaining the situation again was tiring, extremely so. It felt like he had given the story a hundred times now. But it was worse because his dad was staring him down the entire time, and was probably analyzing every single detail in his head. Stiles started with the woods, which effectively got him a smack in the head.

“When you see a bleeding, unconscious man in the middle of the woods, it is common sense to call the police Stiles, not take him into your loft.”

“But dad! They would have just taken him to the hospital! Where I work? I cut the wait time by like 60%.”

His dad says nothing to that. “Continue.”

He then explains the repercussions of taking in Derek. His actions and reactions, his behaviors and memory loss. He tells his dad mostly everything, ranging from Derek’s habits to Derek’s recovery. From his not even knowing his last name, to him remembering that his girlfriend was also the one who kidnapped him. He spoke a mile a minute, but his dad was use to it, nodding and grunting as he explained.

Each word seems to weigh the sheriff down, and he continues to let out heavy sighs.

“You’re leaving out something.” John says.

His dad knew Stiles better than the back of his own hand. It was foolish, to attempt to keep anything away from him. Saying that he had feelings for Derek was going to change the entire situation, saying he had a physical relationship with Derek would create an even larger fiasco.

Still, he wouldn’t lie to his dad.

So he explains it, in awkward slurs and random fidgeting. It was a lot harder than he expected. He wasn’t looking for acceptance from his dad, because Stiles and Derek wasn’t anything besides Stiles and Derek.

It seems his dad understands what Stiles is saying before he even says it. His amber eyes melt, his expression softening. There might even be a soft smile somewhere under the ‘why-is-my-son-insane’ facade.

“You’re in love with him.”

The words slap Stiles in the face.

Five words, each heavy like anchors in his chest.

“What?”

“Son, for the first time in your life you had a difficult time explaining something to me. You had trouble .. talking. You fidgeted and avoided eye contact. For the first time you picked your words out and made sure I wouldn’t be mad. That is by far the strangest thing I have ever seen from you. It’s obvious how you feel for this boy.”

Stiles looks up at his dad, who still shows no emotion.

“So you’re saying it’s okay?”

“I didn’t say that. This is a dangerous situation. Being involved with him therefore puts you in a dangerous situation.” Stiles weakens. “But for the most part, I think you’ve gotten past the hard part. I’m surprised at the way you’ve handled this entire situation. I should be angry you didn’t let the authorities handle this, but I understand where you were coming from. You didn’t think putting Derek in the mental ward of the hospital being questioned by police and psychologists was going to be a good idea. From what I hear, you helped this boy as best you could.”

Suddenly, Stiles feels so guilty. For shutting his dad. For not telling him everything like he always does, for not going to his dad. It was stupid. His stupid mind. Worried that his dad would disapprove, worried that he would worry for Stiles again. He hated worrying his pop. He hated seeing a broken look, because his mother had already left him so damaged.

Hearing his dad say these things, he knows that his choice was wrong. Because his dad was always worried, but never disapproving.

“Dad..”

“What’s important is that Derek has his memories back, Kate is going to be arrested, and the Hale family will finally have their son back. You did good, son.”

“I .. did?”

His dad smiles and Stiles feels his heart melt into gold. He reaches over and pulls Stiles into a hug, his hand running through the back of Stiles’ head. It’s comforting and warm.

“I thought you’d be mad.”

“I will be depending on what base you’ve reached with this boy. I don’t care if he’s a millionaire, I’ll have him locked up for touching my boy.”

“ _Daaad_!”

John chuckles, and Stiles feels the laugh rumble through his ribs. He loved his dad.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

His dad sighs. “It’s okay. You did now.”

“Love you dad.”

“Love you too, son.”

 

* * *

 

 “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

It wasn’t like they could turn back now. They were already at the front gates of the house. Derek gave him the address and Stiles put it in the GPS of his phone. They drove in silence, Derek drowning in his own thoughts where Stiles couldn’t reach for him. Staring out the window, silence. These things were familiar to him now.

Stiles could only imagine the thoughts going through his head.

“No, I’m not ready.” Derek mutters, his eyes the darkest of greens. Stiles turns to Derek, placing a hand on the man’s neck. The man looks down at him, eyes longing for something Stiles can’t provide. This was it.

“It’ll be okay.” He whispers, promising something he could never be sure of.

Stiles lets go and walks up to the gate, pressing the buzzer on the side. There is a crackle before a voice pops up. “Who is it?” The voice is female. Derek tenses, looking up at the buzzer like it was something precious. He looks like he is about to break.

“L-Laura?” He says, voice cracking.

There is a small silence before the voice replies, “ _Derek_?”

The gates open and the two walk up the driveway. Derek leads the way, Stiles trailing behind. The house is just like Derek described weeks ago. It was beautiful and large, the architecture flawless in every way.

They reach the door far too quick, and Derek stands there in front of the stained glass. His hand trembles, but Stiles doesn’t reach out to stabilize it. He stands behind Derek, waiting. He had to do this on his own.

The door swings open to reveal a woman with dark hair. Her eyes are emerald green, rose red lips. She is beautiful, eyelashes curling upwards towards the sun. This was Derek’s sister. Her skin caught the sunlight perfectly.

Her eyes look over Derek’s face over and over again. Maybe trying to make sure it’s actually him. Her lip trembles, but then she steels herself. There is a war behind those eyes.

_Laura Hale. ‘Protective. Tough. Badass’_

“D-Der?” She blinks a couple of times, taking wary steps.

“Laura, I-“

“I thought- We thought .. When the police called .. I couldn’t .. ” She walks up to him, and Stiles’ heart cracks at the seams. Her hands reach up to cradle his face and Derek doesn’t tense. How many times had she done that, not knowing that it’d be her last? How did it feel to place her palms somewhere she has longed to put them for so long?

“I’m sorry.” He mutters to her, and Stiles has never heard that voice before. It’s so raw and broken.

“Don’t be sorry baby brother.” She says, whispers right into the crook of his neck, Stiles can see the white of her fingers as they curl around Derek. Derek hugs her and Stiles can’t help the smile on his face.

They let go, but Laura is still right in front of him, like she’s afraid he is about to bolt off. “Where did you go Derek? Why didn’t you call? Write? Anything Derek? We were so worried, mom was so worried.”

“Where’s mom?” He asks, voice soft.

Laura turns around, steps into the doorway and starts shouting, shouting. “Mom! Mom!” The word echoes through the house and her voice contains tears ready to spill.

There is a clatter of steps, someone who is worried, someone who is rushing to protect.

“Laura? Why are you yelling? What’s wrong?” A woman with beautiful dark hair, she walks in front of the doorway looking at a painfully smiling Laura. She follows the direction Laura is looking at, her green eyes shifting until they reflect a broken man. Her mouth opens slightly.

_Talie Hale. ‘Gentle. Strong. Loving.’_

“Derek?”

This time, Derek walks forward, his arms opening wide and enveloping the woman who created him. He holds her and Talia wastes no time in swallowing her only son in an embrace of warmth and love.

Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever felt so .. warm but so cold at the same time. Seeing Derek reunite with his mother and sister, seeing him crumble in arms that are willing to keep him together. Seeing him breathe in the scents of people he has once forgotten the names of. He sees Derek hate himself for ever walking away, he sees the regret in the way he hugs his own flesh and blood. He sees strong bones tremble in weak skin.

There was no sweeter moment, but also no bitter picture.

“There wasn’t a day we stopped thinking of you Derek. Not a single day.” Talia says, her eyes shut, words like bullets piercing through Derek’s shoulder.

Sitles believes her. Derek was not a man to give up on.

They release and look at each other, remembering lines that they would never forget, even after death.

“I missed you.”

“I did too. I missed everyone. I miss everyone so much. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry ma.”

“There is nothing to be sorry for. You’re here now. You’re here now.”

And Stiles doesn’t understand what he’s sorry for, what Talia is forgiving. He doesn’t understand the entire picture, but it doesn’t matter, because Derek’s fear was uncalled for. His family was accepting him back.

Talia looks over Derek’s shoulder and stares at Stiles, her eyebrows rising. Laura and Derek turn to look at him as well.

“Who is this?”

Derek looks at him so deep, his mouth smiling. “Mom, Laura. This is the man who saved my life. The most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

_What?_

 

 


	11. Protecting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of past domestic abuse in this chapter

Explaining what happened was more difficult than Stiles expected. In the living room, there were now five people. Stiles sat on one couch, Derek beside him. On the opposing couch sat Laura, whom had dried her eyes, and Talia. In the corner of the room was a man Stiles didn’t recognize. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, silent.

“Derek.”

The man beside him looks up at his mother, his eyes still wavering and fearful.

“Start from the beginning.” Her voice is collected and calm. Stiles distinctly remembers Derek saying his mother had kind eyes and a gentle heart. The woman in front of him exuded an entirely different atmosphere.

Derek clears his throat. Stiles leans over and whispers. “Do you need me to leave?” Derek had never really explained this part to Stiles either. In fact, he never really told Stiles anything. He was just there for Derek physically, providing comfort.

He shakes his head before looking at each person in the room, finally settling for his mother. “Kate. She .. she lied. She was a spy. She was trying to get information from the company and sell it to other people. She .. she seduced me and I fell for it. She convinced me to leave my family. That you guys were disappointed in me, that I was worthless to you. I ..” His voice cracks and Stiles wants to hold his hand, hold his neck, do something, because Derek sounded so wounded.

 _Don’t cry_.

“I believed her. And then she took me somewhere .. I don’t know where. And then she tortured me. For months. And .. I guess I hit my head or something. I lost my memory. I tried to get away one day. Stiles found me. Saved my life.” He looks over at Stiles, eyes full of sadness. He was leaving out things, Stiles was sure, but still the pain was loud and crisp.

“I just remembered everything last week. Remembered how much of a worthless jerk I was. And I came to say sorry. Not to beg to be forgiven.”

Both Talia and Laura’s expression change immediately. Then, does Stiles see the mother in Talia. She stands up, walks over to Derek, placing a hand under his chin, lifting it.

“Oh, my son.” She pulls him up and they are hugging tightly, Derek’s arms shakily finding their way around his mother. Laura stands up, muttering something about ‘I knew that bitch was a bitch’ before joining the hug.

Stiles looks over at Peter, whom is observing expressionlessly. They meet eye contact and Stiles feels so self conscious before the man.

 “Why didn’t you call the police.” The man says, the weight of his eyes never leaving Stiles. He feels Derek, Talia, and Laura all turn to face them, releasing the embrace.

He fumbles for words, mind rearranging. “I- I’m a doctor. Surgeon. I work at BH Hospital. When I found him, my loft was closer than the hospital. I guess .. I guess I saw him and knew that it’d be easier to take him there and fix him up.”

“You didn’t answer the question.” He says, and every syllable seems to dig under Stiles’ skin.

_What?_

“I-“

“Why is it that you didn’t contact the police? Did you think you didn’t have to? Or perhaps the thought hadn’t occurred to you. ” His words are cold.

“ _Peter_.” He hears Talia say, but the man ignores it.

At this point, Stiles begins to get angry, annoyed that this man was questioning his actions. He didn’t even know who the man was. What he did may have not been conventional, but he did what he needed to do. And in the end, didn’t it work out?”

“I didn’t want him to be put under constant questioning and psychological treatment. He didn’t need that. I took a medical approach, believing it was of better interest of his health to give him time to recover. I wanted to-“

“Did you ever think someone was looking for him? Or that the person who abducted him was still out there?”

“Of course I did.” Furious, was a better word. “That’s exactly why I didn’t go to the authorities. Because she could have found him, and he wouldn’t even recognize her. I could’ve lost him to her without even knowing it.”

“ _You_  could’ve lost him?” He spits, getting off the walls, uncrossing his arms, putting his hands on the top of the couch. His eyes never change, always steel. “And who exactly are you? How do we even trust you? You just happened to find Derek in the woods after he got kidnapped? And just took him ? And what now? Do you want some kind of reward?”

“Peter!” Talia says again, her voice warning.

“What the hell is wrong with you!” Stiles shouts, furious left already. He was seething with rage. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? Coming at Stiles like he was the one who hurt, like he was the one who wanted to hurt him. “You know what? Don’t answer that. I don’t have to listen to you.”

He stands, grabbing his jacket.

Obviously he wasn’t welcome here.

He makes his way to the door before Derek grabs his arm.

“Stiles wait-“

Stiles reflexively snatches his arm away. There is pain in Derek’s eyes but he doesn’t attempt it again.

“No. I won’t sit here and be lectured on how I decided to save your life. What I did, I would never change. I would do the same things again. I- I can’t. I won’t sit here and be accused of having an agenda.” He turns to Talia and Laura.

“It was nice meeting you.”

And then he storms out the room, followed by shouts from Derek.

He doesn’t linger to hear what is said.

 

* * *

 

When he turns on his phone there are

4 Missed Calls

8 Texts

The missed calls are all from Derek.

**Sourwolf 12:01 P.M.**

_Stiles. Come back_

**Sourwolf 12:01 P.M.**

_Let me explain_

**Sourwolf 12:01 P.M.**

_My uncle is a fucking overprotective jerk. He didn’t mean to offend_

**Sourwolf 12:30 P.M.**

_I’m sorry._

**Sourwolf 1:32 P.M.**

_Stiles?_

**Sourwolf 1:33 P.M.**

_Talk to me_

**Sourwolf 5:29 P.M.**

_I have to go to the precinct later. Will you meet me there?_

**Sourwolf 5:30 P.M.**

_I’m better with you than without._

 

* * *

 

He ends up going to the precinct, not able to ignore Derek’s requests. Stiles was angry with his uncle, after all, not Derek. He takes a second to read the texts over again, denying the bubbling feeling he gets on the inside when it sounds so genuine.

_He likes you, you stupid oblivious idiot._

He wanted to believe it, he did. And .. sometimes he does believe it.

When Derek is kissing him, it feels like the snowflakes on his heart melt away, the pain in his skin evaporates. When Derek is holding him, it feels like their bodies were crafted to perfectly align, like stars destined to be constellations. When Derek is looking at him, it feels like there is something he wants to say, something he wants to feel.

Sometimes there was no doubt, that this man, no matter how damaged, would rather be broken in his arms than anywhere else. Sometimes he can feel it in the pulse of Derek’s heart, sometimes he can taste in the desperate of his kiss. It added up.

But when Stiles had just a moment to himself, there’s this doubt, this disbelief. This feeling like this stain in his veins that can’t be washed away, no matter how many times blood runs over it. Almost like he’s scared for Derek to love him.

And maybe he is.

The last time he fell in love, and was convinced he was loved back, it felt unreal. It was like he knew where he belonged in the world. There were no doubts. He fell deep and hard, thinking that there was no reason to build walls, thinking there was no reason to doubt. He thought he would be loved and only loved.

He was wrong. In more ways than he could bare. He was ruined and shattered, the trust he offered was betrayed, the love he gave was neglected, the risks he took backfired in the end.

He was broken.

Feeling in love again is scary, it turns out, the second time around. He wanted to trust and love and risk so bad, because it felt so right. But his body was scared and fragile, scar tissue still tender under his bones. After all, there was no healing from heartbreak.

How could he be sure?

So many parts of his mind want him to back off, to shut Derek away, build walls this time, build castles, even. ‘He’s going to betray you.’

_‘He’s going to hurt you.’_

_‘He’s going to break you.’_

_‘He’s going to shatter you.’_

_‘He’s going to leave you.’_

_‘Just like Ian.’_

The name was only three letters. But it felt like a thousand pounds, heavy in his chest. Always. Seldom did it slip past his tongue, even rarer did it enter his ears. It was never spoken in his mind, but forever torn into his heart.

His scars still vibrate with the whisper of his voice.

_‘Just like Ian.’_

 

* * *

 

He is greeted by two people at the precinct.

Laura was the first to see him, her eyes widen just for a second before approaching him.

“Stiles!” Her hair flows like rivers, dark and riveting. She and Derek share the same skin.

“Hey. Where’s Derek?”

She inhales sharply through her nose before letting out a sigh. “They’re questioning him right now. Hey. About earlier ..”

“I’m sorry I stormed out like that. Your uncle just ..”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. We’re the ones who should be apologizing. Uncle Peter can get .. over protective. What he said was out of line. Both Derek and my father have told him so. Speaking of which..” She turns around to call the man who was speaking to a police officer.

He walks over and Stiles sees that Derek got most of his looks from his father. The man had long straight hair that draped just above his shoulders. Sharp cheekbones, pure green eyes, muscular build. He was incredibly handsome.

“Dad, this is Stiles. The one who-“

“Saved my son.” The man reaches out a hand and Stiles shakes it. “Mark Hale. I’m Derek’s father.” They let go and he smiles fondly. “I want to thank you, for everything, Stiles.” And that sounded like a dismissal.

Mark seems to understand what he has accidentally implied before correcting himself. “I hope you stick around.” He says. “I hope to get to know you better. We owe you a lot.”

Stiles shakes his head before smiling. “You don’t owe me anything Mr. Hale. I save lives for a living, it’s just not often I find my patients in the middle of the forest.”

Mark grins wide. “I like you. You’re good.”

“Thanks?”

It felt strangely good to have acceptance from Mark.

Laura slaps his arms. The man pouts. “Dad, you’re creeping him out.”

“Am I? It’s a good compliment.”

“Peter already scared the boy off, there’s no need for you to do it too.” She frowns and Stiles is surprised at her defending him so quickly. He wonders why she does so, after only meeting him twice.

Mark lets out a sigh. “I apologize for my brother. He was really upset when Derek left and didn’t show up for months. Spent days away from home. Maybe to look for him. We were worried for his health, but he never stopped. A stubborn idiot, that man. Anyways he spent so long tracking Derek, and you turn up with him and the first thing he thinks is you have an agenda. He loves Derek. And now, it may be difficult for him to trust anyone who gets near him. I hope you understand. I talked to him, but it may be a while before he brings himself to apologize.”

Stiles nods, trying to come to some internal compromise.

Before he can do so, a door opens to reveal Derek.

He looks troubled, the look he has when he’s in his thoughts. Upon seeing Stiles next to his father, his expression softens. He smiles. Mark seems to be surprised by this, his eyebrows rising ever so slightly.

“Stiles.”

“Hey sourwolf.” He says, feeling a little lighter in the chest himself.

“Listen, I-“

“It’s okay. Your dad explained things to me. I’m sorry I got angry. It was stupid, your uncle was just worried. How did things go in there?”

He scratches the back of his head. “I told them everything I could.”

Mark reaches over and places a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “We’ll find her, son.”

“Damn right we will. No one messes with a Hale and gets away with it.” Laura says, holding up a fist.

Mark sends her a look. “Language.” He turns to Stiles. “Now Stiles, I would appreciate it if you came over for dinner tonight. There are a couple of things I’d like to discuss.”

That made him nervous, more than it should have. He was never really good at impressing adults, given he was a hyperactive spaz who can’t sit still. Also the fact that he spoke a mile a minute and had little to no brain filter.

His mouth betrays him.

“Um, okay. But will Peter .. allow me there?”

Mark scoffs before putting a hand on the back of Stiles’ neck. “I like this kid.” He looks at Derek. “I like him, do you like him?”

Derek flushes pink before looking incredulous. “Dad!”

Mark looks back down at Stiles. “Don’t worry. He’s been told to behave. Don’t expect him to pass you the green beans though.”

Stiles grins. He could grow to enjoy Derek’s dad. “That’s okay. I don’t like green beans anyways.”

The man lets out a hearty laugh and throws a arm round his shoulder before guiding him out the precinct.

He talks to him about Derek’s diaper days as they drive home.

 

* * *

 

“DEREK! YOU STUPID IDIOT!”

It seems the Hale house was full of surprises. And also the women of the house are much, much more terrifying than the men. Besides Peter, but Stiles wasn’t so sure he was human to begin with.

Once Derek walks through the front door (he does it so casually, and Stiles is glad he has fallen back into previous habits), he has an armful of a raging girl.

She has both arms around him, face tucked in his shoulder.

“HOW YOU COULD YOU JUST LEAVE LIKE THAT? DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I’VE WORRIED ABOUT YOUR ASS?” Mark shuffles by awkwardly and walks towards another room.

“Language.” He says before disappearing.

Derek brings a hand up to rub against the back of the girls neck. “I know Cora. I know.” He whispers, voice light like a feather. “I’m sorry.”

 _Cora Hale. ‘_ Lover. Fighter. Caring.’

Laura smiles before walking past them, she beckons at Stiles gesturing her head towards another room. “Come help me and mom set up dinner.” He understands, and leaves, giving Derek alone time with a now sobbing Cora.

At a second glance, the Hale house is extremely big. There are so many rooms, and each and every one of them is decorated and furnished to an amazing extent. And then he remembers that Derek’s family was one of the richest in the country. It isn’t all that surprising, then, when Stiles sees the kitchen furnished with the latest gadgets. He basically internally orgasms at the beautiful place.

“I take it you love cooking.” Talia says from the stove. She smiles at him. “I’m glad Mark convinced you could come. I was worried. I apologize for my brother-in-law.”

He nods, taking the same apology for the fourth time that day.

“I uh, took up after my mom. She was a great cook.”

“Was?” Laura asks as she dries her hands at the sink.

“Laura, that’s rude to ask.”

Stiles shakes his head. He didn’t mind talking about his mother. In this place, he felt comfortable. Talia and Laura and Mark wasted no time in giving him warmth and smiles. It was strange how he adjusted so quickly, realizing that they indeed were good people. It could have been because he helped Derek, but it could also just be because they were good people.

“No it’s fine. My mom passed when I was a teenager. Stage IV melanoma.” He washes his hands at the sink. He didn’t like talking about his mom usually, obviously it brought back bad memories. And partly because of the pity he’d receive from others. Talia and Laura, however don’t give him that.

“I’m sorry for your loss. She must’ve been a great woman, raising a son like you.” It was something strange to say, after just meeting Stiles, but he was the man who showed up with his only son, safe and sound. Maybe that said alot about a person.

“Thank you Mrs. Hale.”

She smiles and he recognizes that warm smile Derek described.

“Talia. A friend of Derek is a friend of ours.”

“Okay Talia, how can I help?”

 

* * *

 

“Peter, can you pass the green beans.” Talia says.

Stiles, Mark, and Laura all chuckle at the same time, granting them a confused look from the rest of the table.

Dinner was domestic in ways Stiles rarely ever experienced anymore. Sure, he ate dinner with his friends sometimes, but it was nothing like this. An actual family who worked so well with each other. He felt like he was intruding at first, but soon Cora and Laura brought him into the conversation and things seemed to be okay.

The family seemed to all be happy, and Stiles assumes that it has been a long time since they’ve had dinner like this. Derek seems completely comfortable, he falls into this relaxed expression. Seeing Derek like that .. it made him happy. Happier than he had been in months. He decides that Derek should stay like this forever. The man doesn’t talk as much, mostly listens to the voices he hasn’t heard for months, most likely trying to engrave them in his heart.

They don’t talk about the abduction or about Kate, and Derek seems to appreciate that.

Peter was also quiet, he often sent glances at Stiles, but the icy look from before was gone. Stiles often found Derek nudging his knee under the table, in which he gladly returned, earning him a private grin.

He finds himself having a good time with the Hale family. He has no problem talking to them and they are kind enough to include him in on discussion. They ask him of his family, his job, his education, anything on neutral ground. He also finds out a lot from them as well. Talia and Laura worked for the family company. Cora was still in university. Peter and Mark have their own private practice.

They insist on him staying put while they clean, because he was a guest who helped cook. But he starts to feel small in the large house, he starts to feel difficulty breathing and standing still. So he finds himself out on the large balcony connected to the living room. It overlooks a large portion of the Hale estate. In the distance, Stiles can see the mighty tree Derek told him about.

He was mostly in his thoughts, he had a lot to think about from the past few days.

He is stretched over the ledge, leaning and resting his elbows on the smooth wood. The night was silent and cold, but also crisp and clear. The residence was nearby the forest, and there were no lights. You could see the stars above, something he’d never see in the city.

He is aware the door opens, and he hears soft footsteps as they approach him. He takes a random guess at who it is and surprisingly, it turns out he was right.

“Who gave you those?”

He turns to Peter, who nods his head toward Stiles’ back.

His shirt had ridden up significantly while he was leaning. He quickly adjusts the shirt and stands up a little straighter. It wasn’t often people saw his scars. He hated going to the beach or the pool after he’d gotten them. He wasn’t ashamed, just self conscious. They were the ugliest things on his body and he hated how they made him feel that way.

Stiles clears his throat.

“I got them a long time ago. From someone I don’t like talking about.” He looks off into the sky, the stars twinkling softly.

“I understand now.” Peter stands next to him, he leans in the position Stiles was in before. “Why you saved Derek.” Stiles looks over at him in surprise. “You recognized the injuries.”

_Peter Hale ‘Ambitious. Smart. Loyal.’_

There is a twinge of annoyance in Stiles.

“I was wrong to accuse you of such wrong things.”

It wasn’t quite an apology, but Stiles would accept it.

“S’okay, I understand.” He says, content with his answer. But then something inside him pushes him to say more. Peter needed to know more. “Yea, you’re right. When I saw him .. out there. Even under the moonlight I could easily tell. And there ... was this force inside of me. I would fix him myself. ‘Cause I knew how it felt to be abused by someone. Especially by someone you loved. I couldn’t stop myself. Call it selfish or unconventional. But I couldn’t help it. I know those wounds never heal. They scar, but never heal on the inside.”

Peter hums in agreement.

It turns out he needed to hear those things more than Peter did.

And maybe that’s why Peter asked.

He was strange, in ways Stiles couldn’t understand.

“And in the process, you fell in love.” Peter says quietly, like the stars could hear him.

“How?”

“There aren’t a lot of things I miss. And .. the way you care for my nephew, it’s impossible to miss.”

And maybe .. he needed to hear that too.

 


	12. Fault

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone enjoys the Papa Hale I created :D

Peter stays with him for a good while before leaving without another word. He assumes that Peter notifies Derek of his whereabouts, because shortly afterwards Derek is out on the balcony as well.

“Hey.”

“Hey there big guy.” He smiles the best he can, making sure his shirt hasn’t ridden up. Derek didn’t need to see those. And he was sure Peter wasn’t going to tell anyone. He was a strange man. A man of secrets, and also respect.

“Sorry about my family. They’re a little crazy.”

Stiles grins at that. The Hale family was indeed crazy, but not in a bad way. They were loving and warm. He wants his dad to meet them one day.

“Nothing to be sorry about. Your family is great. Really. I had a good time.” This seems to put Derek at ease, his shoulders less tense.

“So what’d Peter have to say?”

He looks out onto the backyard. Wind slowly unwinds on the grass, trees billow and dance under the moon.

“He apologized to me. In his own way I guess.” Derek nods.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” He says and Stiles knows that he won’t ask if Stiles doesn’t want to answer.

“Yea. There was more. But it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Derek wants to argue. Stiles can tell by the way his clenches his jaw. But he wasn’t ready to talk to Derek about that, not just yet. “Okay.” Stiles wonders how hard he had to try to only say that and nothing more.

“Will you stay? Tonight?” Derek asks.

“Stay?”

He looks up at the man. His eyes are like a drop of spring, they are warm, even under the cold night. The moonlight pours gently on him, his jawbones capturing shadows expertly, his eyelashes curtaining golden skin.

“Stay.” It turns out Stiles really likes this Derek. Ever since he got his memories back, it feels like he also got his personality back. And it is different in ways that Stiles easily notices. He was protective and caring. Brooding and silent. The newer Derek was still there, too. Teasing and playful. Pensive and soft. It was like he was a whole new person, a mix of both personalities.

And it feels good to know that Stiles was the only one who knew both.

“We have plenty of rooms.” He says quietly, looking away.

Hearing Derek tell him that was strange. He spent the past months sleeping curled up next to Derek, embraced in a field of golden skin and tender warmth. His body spent the past months familiarizing itself with strong arms and sculpted muscles. He wonders how it will feel when Derek leaves him. When he decides he is better and no longer needs Stiles to calm the nightmares.

Will he be able to sleep? When their skin has touched so frequently that his cells are convinced Derek is a season? When Derek has brushed his flesh against Stiles so hard his bones are bruised? When Derek’s breath and lips have found home on the nape of his neck?

Will he be able to dream?

“Okay.” He says. Because the words he wants to say are too dangerous.

_I don’t want other rooms._

_I want the one you are in._

_I don’t want to be alone._

_I want to be in your arms._

_Rather broken and together, than whole and alone._

“Okay?” Derek says. Surprise or reassurance, Stiles isn’t sure.

“Yea, Okay.”

 

* * *

 

He tosses and he turns, but the satin covers aren’t Derek’s arms. And the fluffy pillow isn’t the same as Derek’s chest. The sound of the forest at night is just not the same as Derek’s breathing. It turns out, Stiles’ heartbeat sounded a lot better next to Derek’s. It only takes him five minutes to realize this. It takes him an hour to accept it.

He ends up in the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. It doesn’t seem to help much, and he just sits at the table staring at the glass absently. His thoughts were puzzling, his desires were worse.

In the corner of his eyes, he catches movement. And then he is on high alert, tip toeing towards the light switch (because yes, he was drinking water in the dark). When he turns on the light, heart beating a little faster than he’d like, there is a scurry of movement.

Then, a orange ball of fluff is lunging towards his legs and claws sink into his shin.

“Ouch!”

He looks down to see a grumpy cat. It stares up him with bored eyes, his claws still sunken into his pants.

“Um. Excuse me. Your claws are kind of embedded in my flesh.” He shakes his leg but the cat doesn’t even blink. He sighs and walks back over to the bar stool. The cat crawls up his legs once he’s situated. It circles in his lap about five times before sitting.

“You’re weird. And a lot like Derek.”

He places a palm on the cat, who gives him a side-eye but resumes his grump-ing.

A knock on the wall and he looks up to see Mark leaning against the doorway. His hair was damp, pooled around his neck, his mouth crooked with a smile.

“Mr. Hale.”

He pouts. “Mr. Hale makes me sound old. Talia calls me that when she’s mad. You call me Mark.” He walks in and goes to the fridge. Stiles watches him pour himself milk before he walks over to the table, sitting in front of Stiles.

“Why aren’t you asleep kid?”

“Couldn’t. I’m sort of an insomniac most of the time. With my hours at the hospital, it’s hard to really sleep at a certain time. My sleep schedule is usually whenever I’m too tired to go on.”

Mark hums in agreement around the rim of his cup. There is a faint milk moustache on his face and Stiles laughs at how different he and Derek are. Derek was more like his mom, Stiles realizes, and the girls were more like Mark.

“I want to thank you again Stiles.”

“What for?”

He lets out a sigh, but still smiling. “It couldn’t have been easy. Doing what you did for my son. He means the world to me, I remember as he grew up, I continued to see myself in him. He was always looking out for his family, it’s a big thing for him. He kept us together, even when I couldn’t. When he left, without saying anything, it really surprised us. Things changed quickly, and as days became weeks and weeks became months, it only got harder for us.”

He looks absently at the table, most likely remembering something as he spoke. He smile has lessened, but it was still there. Stiles wonders how he can do that, even when reflecting on a sad memory.

“Peter disappeared for days on end. Talia threw herself into work. Cora fell under her studies. Laura barely even spoke. His chair remained empty at the dinner table, but we still all sat there, because that was the time the family always got together. Having Derek there tonight, it finally brought the family back together again. You gave us that, Stiles.” He looks up at Stiles, eyes a warm honey color.

“Mark, I can’t take that credit-“

“You saved my Derek, Stiles. And not just physically. He’s different. Warmer. Whatever you did, however you treated him, you changed him in more ways than one.” He swallows, looking down at the glass in his hands. “Kate .. Kate was never a good girl for him. She was hiding something, she was vindictive. He couldn’t see it. Or he didn’t want to. I blamed myself, at first.”

“It’s not-“

“I know.” He says, defeated. “I know it wasn’t. But I had to blame someone, and it just so happens his dad couldn’t even protect him. One thing Derek has in common with me, is that we both like to take fault for things. He is going to blame himself, of course he is. That’s just how he is.”

Mark looks at him, knowing Stiles has something to say. “You’re right. I’ve seen him beat himself up for plenty of things.”

The man frowns, his eyebrows furrowed. “Like what?”

Stiles sighs, realizing he has never told anyone these things. But if he had to tell anyone, of course it would be his family. “His first nightmare. When I woke him, he hurt me. Reflex. Thought I was .. her. When he was lucid, I could see how guilty his eyes were. I didn’t blame him. How could I? There was no one to blame except Kate. Still, he told me sorry so many times I’m sure it’s still stuck under his tongue right now.” He sighs, risking a glance at Mark, who seems neutral in expression. “It happened again, and still, he reacted the same way. Even little things, things he couldn’t control he was the same. It’s like he carries it inside himself.”

Mark lets out a breath.

“It took me forever to drill it through that stubborn skull of his. He knows better to blame himself in front of me now. And if I ever catch him misusing the word ‘sorry’ he already knows I’m gonna give him hell.”

Mark grins wide, his eyebrows raised significantly. “That doesn’t sound like my Derek.”

“You said that Derek was .. different. Is that .. bad? I didn’t mean .. to change him.” He brought back a changed Derek, someone the Hale’s weren’t accustomed to. Maybe that wasn’t a good thing?

The man lets out a laugh, and it reminds him so much of Derek’s. “You’re a strange kid. You think I’m mad that you made my son smile for once?”

“Wha-?”

“I’ve never seen him so happy before. And all you have to do is look at him.” Then, he starts blushing. And it’s embarrassing to flush in front of this man. “He never smiled like that with the Kate girl.”

“I..” He looks down at the furball in his lap.

“I’m saying that I’m glad you found him Stiles. You’re good for my son. You’re welcome in this house from now on. Feel free to come by whenever you want. I know you are gonna give me shit, but I do owe you something. You ever need anything? Come to me.”

“Thank you, Mr-. Thank you Mark.”

He grins wide, amber eyes bright. “No, thank you Stiles. Thank you for loving my son.”

The moment he hears that his back tenses. His jaw drops, eyes probably extremely wide. The flush becomes a fire in his cheeks. “Mark, I’m sorry I didn’t-“

Mark places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Calm down Stiles. Sheesh kid, you’re more fidgety than the cat during it’s baths.” The furball in his laps looks up at the man but then resumes its nap. “I didn’t say I had a problem with it. And this house is safe of any homophobia. Laura and Cora even go on those pride marches. Trust me, you’re okay to be yourself here.”

Stiles feels himself relax, the tense muscles unwinding. This family had been more accepting than a lot of people Stiles knew.

The man smiles fondly, gulping down the rest of his milk. “My son is a mystery. It’s hard to ever know what’s going on in that head of his. He’s always messed around with girls in the past. It’s good to see him bring home a boy for once.”

“Mark, wai-, no. There’s nothing going on between Derek and I.” He says. It slips off his tongue before he can catch it, it burns at the bottom of his throat.

Mark gives him this stare. “You don’t mean that.”

_Of course I don’t mean it. But what am I suppose to say? He only kisses me to forget about Kate? He holds me to forget the pain he feels inside? He doesn’t love, at least not in the way I want._

The truth and his mind seem to mix in the worsts of ways. He knows it but he can’t do anything about it.

“You think I’m lying?” Mark says, his eyes almost quizzical.

“Sorry?”

“When I say he smiles just from looking at you? It’s like he’s double checking just to make sure you’re still there. And when you are, he looks again. He doesn’t just smile like that for anyone, you know.”

He’s speechless.

Mark just grins.

“The next time he looks at you, watch his mouth. I promise you’ll see what I’m talking about.”

The man rises from his seat and starts walking towards the hall.

“Good night Stiles.”

“Good night.”

The cat in his lap leaps off and runs towards Mark, jumping and sinking his claws into his calf.

“Ouch. Get off you furball.”

Stiles laughs.

“And Stiles?”

“Yea?”

“Watch the way your mouth moves too.”

 

* * *

 

Sleep still doesn’t come. He isn’t feeling terrible anymore, those thoughts are gone. But now, he is tormented by Mark’s words.

He doesn’t know what to think.

Not in the slightest.

His phone vibrates, and he picks it up to get blinded by his phone’s light. He whispers a curse and squints at the phone screen.

**Sourwolf 1:13 A.M.**

_Are you still awake?_

He grins.

**Stiles 1:13 A.M.**

_yesssss. can’t sleep._

**Sourwolf 1:13 A.M.**

_Can I come over?_

**Stiles 1:14 A.M.**

_dude, its ur house. dnt hav to ask m_ e

**Sourwolf 1:14 A.M.**

_Fine, do you want me over?_

**Stiles 1:14 A.M.**

_yes_

The guest room he was in was on the second floor, directly across from Derek’s room. Laura’s and Cora’s were down the hall. The master and Peter’s were on another floor.

It only takes a minute before there’s a gentle knock at his door. He sits up, legs criss-crossed under the covers.

“Come innnn.” He sings.

The door opens to reveal Derek in his pajamas. He wears a thin henley that hugs his muscular chest in perfect ways, his sweatpants hug his legs in ways Stiles doesn’t like to think about. Stiles grins and pats the space next to him.

Derek walks over and sits next to Stiles, his back resting against the headboard.

He turns to look at the man, and sees that Derek was already looking straight at him.

The man smiles.

He flushes slightly, looking away.

“So, how are you feeling?” He says. “I told you you had nothing to worry about.”

Derek lets out a sigh. “Yea. You were right. I .. I’m happy I’m back.”

“Der?”

“Yea?”

“You know this isn’t your fault right?”

He turns his head to look at Derek, his eyes are empty, and he is in his own thoughts.

“Yea.” He says, but Stiles knows that look. He turns so that he’s facing Derek.

“Derek Hale. Don’t you dare lie to me. I know when you’re blaming yourself. I basically have a degree in the subject. You know that this isn’t your fault, not in any way at all.”

“Stiles-“

“No, I don’t want to hear it. What your family needs right now is their Derek back. And you can’t give them that if you’re too busy convincing yourself that this was all your fault. That doesn’t help anyone. It doesn’t help your family and it sure as hell doesn’t help you.”

“Stiles, if I hadn’t fallen for Kate’s trick, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Yea? Well if Kate didn’t trick you, then you wouldn’t have fallen for it.”

Derek furrows his eyebrows, frowning.

“Last week there was a seven year old girl on my operating table. She was seven with beautiful brown hair and eyes that were so wide I swear there were stars in them. She fell down and hit her head. Her brain was swelling and hemorrhaging. I couldn’t save her. I wasn’t fast enough. She bled out on my table with my hands still on her skin. Would you blame me for her death?”

Derek is sitting up now, his eyes obviously holding anger. “What? No, Stiles I wouldn’t.”

“And why not? It was my fault I couldn’t work fast enough. It was my fault that seven year old girl died.”

Derek has a hand where his shoulder meets his neck. “But it wasn’t your fault she fell.”

“You’re right. And it wasn’t your fault Kate tricked you.”

Derek’s eyes widen, his mouth slightly open. There is hurt somewhere in the gold and green of his eyes, but there is also acceptance in the way they blend. Stiles tries to find any flaws on his golden skin, but can’t find a single one. Even the span of his eyelashes are perfect.

He looks at Derek.

And he smiles.

Stiles lays down, head resting on the pillow.

“I’m sorry.” Derek says.

“For what?” He watches him, the way his skin flexes under corded muscle. The way his chest expands with each breath. The way his spine stretches under thin fabric.

“For the girl. I’m sorry you lost her.”

“Yea, I am too. It happens way too often. I wish I could save them all.” He whispers.

“You saved me.” Derek turns his head to stare at him, his lips curling into a small smile.

_And you, saved me, Derek._

Stiles reaches over to turn off the lamp, and darkness swallows the room. Moonlight whispers through sheer curtains, shadows of trees paint across the hardwood floor.

“Stay.” He says to Derek.

“Stay?” He replies.

“Stay.”

There is a ruffle of fabric. “Okay.” And then there is a pillar of warmth wrapping around him. Derek’s chest is firm, it presses against his shoulder blades softly. There is a familiar kiss at the nape of his neck, his spine bends in pleasure. Strong arms around his hipbones, they hold him like a glass of champagne.

“Did you mean it?” He whispers, feeling the slowness of Derek’s breathing, the steadying of his heartbeat.

“Mean wha’?”

“What you said today. About me being beautiful.”

There is another kiss on his neck.

“Yes.”

He turns around to face the man.

Derek is already staring at him, his lips smiling.

Stiles looks at the man.

And he smiles.

 

 


	13. Different

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope no one is losing interest :'(

The following weeks prove to be something that is new to Stiles. The Hales invite him over a handful of times for dinner, mostly on the days he doesn’t have a night shift at the hospital. His friends all convince him its a good idea. Even his dad says that he should get to know them better (and get out of the loft/hospital)

So when Talia or Mark tells him to come over, he usually does. He isn’t sure if they do it because they think they owe Stiles something, but he doesn’t like to think about that. He likes to think about how well he fits into this family. He helps Talia cook dinner and they all sit down and eat. The domesticity is a strange thing, but Mark wasn’t kidding when he said dinner time bonded them together. Stiles couldn’t help but appreciate the fact that they wanted to include him in that.

Sleeping alone is another thing that is new (in a sense). It leaves him uncomfortable and fidgety at night and restless and unhappy in the morning. It’s like living your entire life knowing a season will come, and then .. suddenly it doesn’t. Stiles can’t help but imagine how difficult it must be for Derek, he can’t help but wonder if Derek is going through the same thing. If he can sleep. If he gets nightmares.

But what seems to scare him more ..

Is that he doesn’t need Stiles anymore. Is that he sleeps perfectly fine. Is that he has moved on from Stiles.

The second night he is asked to come over for dinner (and is expected to sleep over) Derek finds his way into Stiles’ bed. And they end up falling alseep in each other’s skin. Derek’s lips at the back of Stiles neck, his corded arms around Stiles’ cup-of-wine waist. This happens every time after that. Every time.

And Stiles can’t help but think about how Derek really feels.

 

* * *

 

Stiles wakes up to a face-full of orange fur. It is something that happens after every sleepover at the Hale’s.

“Fabulous.” He says, stirring awake.

Derek groans next to him and he realizes that the man’s arms are still around him. Derek’s lips touch him lightly at the nape of his neck, soft breaths ghosting across its canvass, painting goosebumps on it. Time seems to move slower, sunlight trickling through the guest room curtains, warmth reaching his very bones. It’s happened for so long that his body is used to it. Used to waking up next to a warm and comforting Derek. He ignores the fact that this will have to end eventually.

“Mornin’.”

Derek groans in reply.

“Thought you were a morning person.” He frankly remembers Derek being awake hours earlier than Stiles, even on days he had a shift at the hospital. He shifts his face away from the orange furball and the cat sticks his butt in Stiles’ face like its some kind of butt warmer. Stiles tries to swat it away but it hisses and sits back down.

“Not really, he’s always been a lazy ass.”

The reply is strangely high pitched and sounds absolutely nothing like Derek.

 And then Stiles realizes, through the sleep haze and cat butt, that Derek didn’t answer that.

It was someone else.

“Mornin’ boys. Time for breakfast.”

They both jump out of bed in record time, lightspeed is an appropriate term. The cat is frightened by the sudden movement and stumbling and flailing (mostly on Stiles’ part).

Dark hair tied in a bun, clear skin, and pajamas.

“L-Laura!” he is blushing, probably very badly.

She is leaning against the doorway her smile wrapped in a mischievous manner. Her arms are crossed and she stares playfully between the two men.

He looks over at Derek who looks his usually morning grumpy. “Don’t you know how to knock Laura.” He groans. Then he walks out the door, brushing against her. He doesn’t even look at Stiles or freaking kiss him good morning. The grumpy cat almost reflects Derek, walking behind him and out the door, brushing against Laura.

That leaves Stiles stammering and blushing in front of Laura who continues to smile evilly at him.

“I can explain – this is, err, I – we.”

She walks up to him, planting two hands on his shoulders. “Calm down Stiles. I may not know you all that well yet, but if Derek likes you enough that he can’t even sleep without you, then you are probably a catch.”

He ignores the semi-compliment. “W-we aren’t sleeping  _sleeping_  together. He just .. doesn’t get nightmares .. when we are in the same bed. So I guess its kind of a therapeutic thing he likes. He doesn’t do it because ...” He bites his lip. “It makes it easier for him to sleep.” He doesn’t admit that it helps him sleep at night either. “It’s not – like that.”

“I see.” She has a pensive look. “Well, I’ve never seen something  _therapeutic_  make Derek blush before, so ..” She leans in to whisper. “Don’t doubt yourself too much.” It seems Laura has a thing for making Stiles feel better because he automatically smiles at her. It’s like her happiness is contagious. She returns back to normal voice level. “Listen, Stiles, how about we go shopping together? Just you and I? Right after breakfast.”

Stiles widens his eyes. “What?”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. I’d like to get to know you better. After all, you  _are_  sleeping with my brother!”

He immediately flushes. “Laura! It’s not like that!”

She smiles, teasing him. “You’re so fun to pick on. Calm down. So what do you say? Do you have a shift at work today?”

He bites his lip. What could go wrong? “Yea, but not until night time.”

Laura throws an arm around his waist. It is strange for it to feel so familiar and comfortable. She leads them down the stairs. “Well it’s settled, then!”

 

* * *

 

**Dad 9:15 A.M.**

_Hey, is everything okay?_

**Stiles 9:15 A.M.**

_everythings cooool. hows the search going?_

**Dad 9:16 A.M.**

_I’m not allowed to disclose that information._

**Stiles 9:16 A.M.**

_ur so funny dad_

**Dad 9:16 A.M.**

_You’re the worst._

**Stiles 9:17 A.M.**

_u don’t mean tht. spill the beans. I hav somethin to tell u too_

**Dad 9:17 A.M.**

_Nothing so far. She’s incredibly good at being a ghost. I’m starting to get a little too worried Stiles. She is too clean. She could be anywhere doing anything._

**Stiles 9:19 A.M.**

_tht doesnt sound good. thx for working so hard dad. it means a lot to me_.

**Dad 9:20 A.M.**

_Anything for you son. Now what is it you had to tell me?_

**Stiles 9:20 A.M.**

_the hales! they like me! invited me over for dinner again last night. U should rly meet them._

**Dad 9:21 A.M.**    
 _That sounds great, Stiles. They are good people. I have already met them, I am the sherif,f son. Talia and Mark are both acquaintances of mine. They are very good people in Beacon Hills. It is good that you are getting along._

**Stiles 9:22 A.M.**

_Oh. K. Gotta go shoppin. Imma let u get bck to work. Love u dad._

**Dad 9:22 A.M.**

_Not going to ask. Love you too._

“Where are you taking him?”

Stiles locks his phone and looks up from the breakfast table. By the time he and Laura got downstairs everything was already made and set out. Breakfast passes by just as smoothly as dinner does, the Hales were just a little bit quieter in the mornings.

After everyone finished, Cora and Talia started clearing off the tables, Derek, Laura, and Stiles remained at the table.

Laura smiles at her brother. “Relax Der! We’re gonna have some shopping time.”

Derek narrows his eyes at her. “What are you planning.”

She feigns surprise. “What? Derek! How could you accuse me of planning anything? I just wanted to get to know your boyfr-“

Stiles chokes on his coffee. Loudly.

Laura grins at his blush. “-I just wanted to get to know Stiles better.”

“I’m coming too.” Derek says.

“Oh no you aren’t.” Mark walks into the kitchen in a flawless suit and tie. His hair is smoothed backwards and he has a briefcase in hand.

“Wow, you look great Mark.” Stiles says. Derek shoots him a little glare.

Mark shines a smile and bows. “Why thank you Stiles! Have I said that I like this kid? Well, I like him. Anyways, Derek. You’ve been gone for three months son. By now people have started to realize that you haven’t been around. And I know how you hate when the media starts bothering you, so you should make an appearance as soon as you can before they start to get antsy. Your mom and I can’t keep deferring attention.”

Stiles looks over at Derek. He almost forgot that the Hale family was one of the wealthiest and publicly respected, and that they had a status to uphold. They were such homey and down-to-earth people, it was hard to even tell they were so renowned. That was another thing Stiles loved about them; they never let any status demean them as people.

Derek deflates. “Fine. I’ll go to work.” Stiles frowns. Derek going to work meant no Stiles plus Derek time. ‘Sterek’ as Stiles liked to call them.

“Wait.” Stiles says. They look at him. “What do you work as?”

This was something he didn’t know. Derek never told him. He knew what everyone else in the family did, but not what Derek did for a living.

Mark beams. He walks over and lands a heavy palm on Derek’s shoulder. “My son here is a hero.”

Derek throws his face in his hands. “ _Daaad_.”

Mark ignores him. “He runs a non-profit organization that deals with funding research to cure different kinds of cancers. It is joined to mine and Peter’s private practice that also deals with cancer patients. He’s done some good work! My son here has raised a lot of money and has helped fund a lot of research programs in the past.”

Stiles smiles, really wide. His heart flutters too. He gives Derek his star eyes and his widest grin possible. “Wow. I – I didn’t know that, why didn’t you tell me? That’s really amazing. Why didn’t you like .. ever tell me? I’m a doctor. I deal with patients like that every day. Wow you are totally amazing.” He starts to fanboy.

Derek seems to duck his head a little from the praise. He shrugs.

“No need to be modest son. You aren’t usually this modest when you try to impress cute-“

He coughs loudly, Laura giggles.

Talia sticks her head in the door. “Stop teasing our only son. You’re going to be late for work.” He sticks his tongue at her and Stiles has difficulty believing that he was a grown man.

“Anyways, Peter has been running the organization while you were absent, so get with him on that. I think he said something about a gala? I don’t know. Anyways I have to get to work. See you kids later.” There is a chorus of byes. He kisses Derek on the forehead (Derek blushes), he hugs Laura tightly and wanders into the kitchen to kiss Talia. He even kisses Stiles on top of his head. Then he leaves out the door, Talia walking him out.

It felt good to be a part of this family.

 

* * *

 

Shopping with Laura proved to be exhausting. She was like a Lydia, not as bad, but similar. Stiles gets a feeling that putting the two together was asking for world domination.

Laura made him try on a bunch of stuff, buying whatever she thought was cute. She even made him help her in and out of dresses and things with zippers. The entire day she was nothing but like a sister to him, it felt like he’d known her for a long time. Playful banter and laughs, her nonchalance in buying Stiles loads of clothes.

They shopped for hours.

 _Hours_.

After Stiles whined about being starved to death, that this was more kidnapping than a shopping trip, Laura gives in. They end up hauling bags and bags of clothes and settling in one of the restaurants connected to the mall. Leon, one of the families bodyguards, was hefting a much larger amount of their clothing and following loosely behind.

When they enter the restaurant, a waiter comes to meet them. The waiter gives them strange exasperated looks, but seats them.

After they occupied two tables (one for them and one for Leon and the clothing), they looked at the menus and ordered.

The waiter walks away and Stiles feels his bones melt from exhaustion.

“Well, that was fun.” Laura says pulling out her phone to look at herself, she was barely even daunted by the work they’d done. Not even a strand of hair was out of place. Definitely like Lydia. Stiles made sure they would never meet.

“You could say that. I feel like a barbie doll.”

“Oh don’t be such a baby.” She turns off the camera and scrolls through something else. Her eyebrows raise slightly. “Oh wow, there’s an article about Derek already. It was published an hour after we left for the mall. That was quick.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows too. “What’s it say?”

“Oh nothing too exciting. Boring, actually. Just says Derek Hale took a break from the foundation and took a vacation. He’s back at it blah blah. I’m glad you kept this quiet, otherwise Hale would be swamped with media. Derek hates that stuff.” She slurps on her water, fingers scrolling through something else.

“When did you guys move here? I know the Hales were located up in New York for a long time?” He didn’t really keep up with things like that. He knew who they were, but just because of some of their work in the medical field, but he wasn’t too into them.

“Just a couple of months ago. Not too long. But our family was in Beacon Hills a long time ago, when it wasn’t so urban as it is now. But that was decades ago. We mainly worked in the northeast, mom wanted to come back down here last year. So here we are.”

“How do you like it?”

The waiter comes by and drops off their food, and then leaves. Laura and Stiles begin eating as they talk.

“It’s cool here. I mean, we use to come by here anyways for vacation. Sometimes we do business over here too, I know Derek and dad’s practice does some stuff over here.”

It made sense, that was why his dad was acquainted with them.

His mind goes off on a tangent as he shuffles quickly through thoughts. His mind focuses on Derek.

“Laura.”

“Yea?”

“You said Derek did some of his work down here?”

She nods biting onto some food.

He frowns. “So .. is this where .. Derek ..”

“Met Kate?” She reads his mind. “Yea, in fact. They met during a charity thing Derek has every year.” She frowns, letting out a sigh.

She doesn’t say anything after that, and Stiles doesn’t have the guts to ask. Laura seems to see the look on his face and continues to talk.

“At first it looked like a coincidence that they just happened to meet, but now we know that she sought him out with a purpose. It wasn’t some love at first sight thing. She specifically planned to go to that event for Derek.” She chews and swallows before continuing.

“She pretended to be so enthusiastic about helping out the cause, fawning over Derek and his work.” She scoffs, her voice a little strained. “I think she even pretended to not know who Derek was at first!”

Stiles suddenly loses his appetite only halfway through his meal. His fork pushes around food.

“What a bitch. Just goes to show you can’t trust anyone who has heart eyes for you.” She shoves a piece of food into her mouth.

Stiles looks up at her, feeling his heart beat a tad faster. “Is that what you guys think about me?” His lips move faster than his brain can control.

She stops chewing and looks up at him, furrowing her eyebrows. “What?”

“Peter was right in a sense. To be wary, I guess.” He says softly.

“Stiles-“

“I understand. If you are. And I also understand if you invited me out to .. I don’t know have a closer look? I see where you’re coming from. I came out of no where claiming to have saved Derek. And I do .. have ‘heart eyes’ for your brother. You probably .. already know that. I guess I’m saying you have every right to be protective. Derek did go through an extremely rough patch with .. Kate. I don’t know.”

“Stiles, stop. I didn’t take you out today with an agenda.” He looks down at his plate. “Hey, look at me.” He does. “Let me tell you something.” She lets out a sigh, placing her fork on the plate. “When Kate walked into Derek’s life, we all knew something was up with her. Her smiles weren’t real. She gave that fake laugh at the right times, used her body to emphasize her words. She clung to Derek, fawning on about her love to ‘help others’ and how Derek’s foundation was an inspiration to her. She said the right words and moved the right way. She was manipulative and damn good at it. I even laughed a few of her jokes, believed some of her words.”

She takes a sip of her water.

“She was a vixen. After awhile, we saw that she was up to something. We all tried to give Derek warnings, that she wasn’t good news. But Kate already was inside his head, messing with his thinking. He wouldn’t listen to us. And .. well here we are.”

He nods, placing down his fork as well.

“What I’m trying to say is, we knew right off he bat what kind of person Kate was. And you aren’t that, Stiles. Mom and Dad adore you, honestly. Peter and Cora may take a while to warm up, but they will.”

And Derek?

What about the one who really mattered?

Did Derek look at Stiles the way he looked at Kate? Did he kiss Stiles the same way he kissed Kate? Did he feel the same? Did he feel anything? Or is this  _really_ just some therapeutic method? It sure seemed that way, the way Derek clung onto him in the weeks following his recovery.

Stiles was a doctor. He understood these things, it was his brain that continued to tell him to look at this the physical way. Derek’s body needed coping, and Stiles was there. Derek needed physical comfort, he needed a rebound. These things were logical in his head.

But his heart. In Stiles’ gut. That stupid thing. It just kept challenging those thoughts. That there was something else, there was something else behind those green eyes and gold skin. But was that something else the same as his feelings for Kate?

Was this really just a-

“Hey, Earth to Stiles? Come back.” She waves her hands in his face.

He blinks. “Huh?”

She leans back against the chair, running a hand through her hair. “I uh, I don’t know how Derek feels. He has always been hard to read. He isn’t very talkative either, but I can tell you this. The way he looks at you? They way he moves around you? I can tell there's something different. It’s hard to explain, and I can’t really tell you how he feels because I don’t know how he feels. But there’s something there, Stiles, I promise.”

He nods, hoping she is right.

 

 


	14. Return

“What’s wrong with you?”

Derek drops the knife he was drying, it clatters loudly against the kitchen tiles. The grumpy cat at his feet hisses at his almost decapitation and walks over to Stiles, crawling up his leg and settling on his lap.

It was Derek and Laura’s turn to wash dishes for dinner. Stiles was never entitled to this job as he cooked, but he liked sitting at the kitchen table to watch them work.

Derek clears his throat. “What?” He picks up the knife carefully and continues to wipe it. He avoids eye contact with Stiles. Laura gives Derek a dull look, like she is entirely done with his crap.

“You’re acting weird dude. Weirder than usual. Like you keep opening you mouth to say something but then you don’t. And you’ve wiped that knife so many times I think I can use it in my next surgery. And you aren’t like ..  looking at me.” Stiles crosses his arms on the counter and rests his chin on them.

A lot of things were different. Derek had been distant lately. If a normal person looked at them, they wouldn’t be able to tell. They were still together and they were still Stiles and Derek. But their intimacy was reduced, it stopped at cuddling in bed. Stiles didn’t like to think about it, because his brain would immediately over-analyze things. And then he’d think that Derek didn’t like him anymore and that his fears were all true. That this was all nothing. That this was just a recovery mechanism. That  _Stiles_  was just a recovery mechanism.

His mind was a mess. He was exaggerating, most likely.

“I think you’re exaggerating.” Derek replies.

Laura leans over to him and whispers loudly, loud enough for Stiles to hear. “Derek, you’re not fooling anyone.”

Derek sends her a glare and whispers something angrily at her.

Then they both start whispering angrily to each other, having a strange argument with soap bubbles floating around. This goes on for about five minutes before they realize Stiles is still there, staring at them.

He clears his throat.

Laura nudges Derek in the rib with her elbow.

Derek grits his teeth and lets out a heavy sigh.

He clears his throat again before talking. “So uh – there’s ..” Laura kicks his foot, he bites his lip. “The foundation holds a charity gala. It happens every year around this time. It’s one of the largest fundraisers we do and its great because a lot of people come to it. A lot of well renowned and important people show up and it really raises money and spreads awareness.” He absently dries another dish as he speaks. Its slow and his words are carefully picked. “It’s usually held in a large venue dad owns. You remember when I told you about remembering large events where people dressed up? And old women flirted with me? Well, yea, that’s this.”

Derek spares a glance at Stiles, green eyes hidden beneath long eyelashes.

Laura leans in like she’s expecting him to continue. When he doesn’t, she rolls her eyes and shuts off the water, handing Derek the last plate. Derek absently wipes it down while Laura plops in a seat next to Stiles. She props an elbow on the table and rests her head on her hand.

Stiles nods. “That’s cool, so is that why you’re so nervous? Well if it’s as successful as you say it is then I don’t know why you’re nervous. Sounds fun. And I think it’s great way to raise money.”

Derek lets out a sigh and places the dish away. He walks over to the table and sits on a chair in front of Stiles.

“That’s not why I’m nervous.” He stares idly at his hands on the table, not looking anywhere at Stiles.

Laura mutters under her breath. “Jesus, you sound like a high schooler without a prom date.”

Derek glares at her with knives in his eyes. Laura throws up her hands.

“Fine! Fine! I’m leaving.” She pushes her chair back and walks towards the doorway. The cat hops off of Stiles and follows her out. She sticks her tongue at Derek before leaving.

Derek sighs.

“Dude, what is up with you?” Stiles says, starting to get a little concerned.

“Stiles.” He looks up at him with those sinfully deep eyes. “It’s – uh – customary to bring a .. date to these galas. “

“Oh?” He furrows his eyebrows. “So who’re you going to take? Laura?”

Derek’s nostrils flare. His cheeks get a little pink. “No.”

“Cora?”

“ _No._ Stiles.”

“Talia? I would think Mark would want to  take her.”

“No.”

Stiles narrows his eyes. He glares at Derek who still refuses to look anywhere at him. Jealously picks at his skin. “Whoa whoa whoa, so who is this girl you plan on taking to this gala? Huh? Who is she?”

“Stiles-“

“I’m going to need her name Derek. I’ll have to make Jackson run a background check on her. Three background checks. And then I’ll run background checks on her family. And her dog. Assuming she has one. You never know.”

“ _Stiles_ -“

“And why are you taking her anyways? Is it because she’s pretty? I’m sure you can find someone else. Does she have nice hair? A pretty smile? You know just because things are pretty doesn’t mean you should take them to charity galas. Some people think horses are pretty, you don’t see me taking a horse to charity galas. That would be dumb. Pretty does not equal good. Do you get what I’m say-“

“STILES. I’m not taking a horse and I’m not taking a girl to the damn gala, I want to take  _you.”_

Oh.

_Oh._

_“_ Ohh ..”

It takes Stiles awhile to properly process what Derek says to him. He has to wade through the initial confusion and jealousy and anger and jealousy and jealousy and ..

“Oh? That’s all?” Derek looks at him now, his face borderline hurt covered up with a scowl.

“N-no.”

Derek looks away, his lips falling to a frown. “Oh.”

Stiles throws his hand across the table and it lands on Derek’s forearm. “No as in yes! Not no as in no.” His mind flails and his mouth flails and Derek is looking at him like he’s crazy. “I mean yes! Yes yes yes! I will go with you!”

Derek’s eyes widen he looks up at Stiles, that familiar shade of pink blooming at the nape of his neck. It bleeds upwards, a slow tide. “Really?”

“Yes you idiot.”

The man lets a small smile slip.

Stiles releases his grip on Derek and frowns. “But wait .. are you .. sure that’s a good idea?”

Derek reflects his expression, his eyebrows scrunching. “What do you mean?”

Stiles looks down at the table. “You said a lot of important people come to this. I mean .. do you want to be seen with me? Y’know .. since I’m ..”

“A guy?”

Stiles looks up. “Yea. I don’t want to embarrass you ‘er anything.” Derek slips his hand into Stiles’, rubbing his thumb on the skin. “And your family is ..”

“Don’t be stupid Stiles. I won’t be embarrassed to take you. I  _want_  to take you. And my family won’t care.” Stiles grips Derek’s hand looking up at him to see a totally different person. His eyes are soft, steady, like they can carry Stiles across any ocean. The warmth of his palms, it dips into Stiles’ skin, travels through his veins.

_Does this feel fake to you? They way he touches you?_

“Are you sure?”

He leans over the table and kisses Stiles softly on his forehead.

_The way he kisses you?_

“Of course I am.”

Stiles’ skin buzzes. His heart rushes. His head .. pounds.

His forehead burns. His mind .. betrays him.

Voices, inside his head. His own voice.

_He doesn’t like you._

_But look at his eyes! Look how deeply they hold me. He has too!_

_He doesn’t like you._

_He’s not embarrassed of me, though._

_He doesn’t like you. You’re only a rebound._

_That’s not true._

_It has been true from the start and you know it._

_That’s not true!_

_He’s going to use you._

_No._

_He’s going to hurt you._

_No!_

_Just like-_

_Stop._

_-Ian._

_Derek wouldn’t do that. He’s not like that._

_Just wait._

_Derek’s not like that!_

_He’s going to use you and throw you away._

_NO!_

_Just like Ia-_

“STILES!”

He snaps out of his mind, Derek’s strong hands are shaking him awake, they are running earthquakes through Stiles’ fault-line body. His eyes melt open to see a worried Derek, he looks so scared.

“Huh?”

“You started shaking. Are you okay?” When did Derek leave his chair? When did he pull Stiles into his chest?

“Yea, ‘m okay.” He whispers. This has happened twice in front of Derek.

It shouldn’t happen again.

“’m just sleepy and tired.” He nudges his head into Derek’s chest, closing his eyes.

Derek places a kiss on top of his head and Stiles shivers from the contact.

_He isn’t like that._

The man puts an arm under Stiles’ knees, carrying him up bridal style. Stiles lets him, falling asleep.

_Derek’s not like that. He wouldn’t hurt me._

They go up the steps. Around the corner. Into a room. Derek is murmuring something, lights turn on and off.

_Maybe he’ll use me. But that’s okay. As long as he isn’t hurting anymore._

Ruffle of fabric, softness on his back. Derek’s warmth is gone. And then it is back, pressed against Stiles. A kiss to the nape of his neck. Soft.

_Maybe he’ll use me._

A whisper. Something quiet. Derek’s voice.

_But he’ll never hurt me._

“Goodnight Stiles.”

“Goodnight.”

Never.

 

* * *

 

Derek sends him glances after that. Constant glances. The ones that ask ‘is he still there?’. Stiles can tell. He can feel the worried looks on his skin the moment they wake up and go through their day.

Stiles doesn’t talk about it, and he doesn’t want to talk about it. Derek can apparently tell, because he doesn’t bring it up and he doesn’t call Stiles out on his obvious lie. But he glances. And he watches. And Stiles can’t help but wonder which is worse.

Stiles acts like nothing has even happened, he acts like himself. He has had practice for a long time now. He knows how to pretend. To act like everything is okay. He’s had a lot of practice. Months, years maybe. At the beginning, he always practiced the fake smile. Always knew how to act happy even when he was feeling terrible, even when he was feeling dead.

Given his friends (namely Jackson) gave him hell after they found out, it didn’t change the fact that his facade had been perfected from constant use.

He wonders if Derek can tell if Stiles is faking. Probably not.

But he most likely wouldn’t have forgotten Stiles pre-panic attack that night. And hence .. the staring. And watching. And glancing. And supporting palms at the small of Stiles’ back. And the extra kiss at the nape of his neck this morning.

Derek wasn’t stupid.

He knew, but he wasn’t disrespectful. He would only act if Stiles let him.

Stiles acted at the breakfast table. And no one knew.

“So Stiles, has my son told you about his fancy shmancy gala?” Mark stuffs his face with a spoonful of eggs. Peter is no where to be found, Cora is at her dorm. It is only Talia, Mark, Laura, Derek, and Stiles at the table.

Stiles pushes his fork around in his plate. “Yea, he has.”He sends a look at Derek, who is conveniently not watching him at the moment. He looks back at Mark “I think it’s really cool. Fundraisers like this are a major step to finding effective treatment plans for diseases like cancer. We aren’t quite there yet, but with the help of funding like this, I’m sure we’ll get there eventually.”

Mark nods, Talia lets a small grin slip.

“Oh!” he looks at Derek. “Derek.” The man looks up at him. “Do you mind if I buy maybe seven tickets ahead of time?”

He texted Scott who texted Allison who texted Lydia. And he texted Jackson who texted Danny who texted Isaac. So all of his friends unanimously decided to come.

Before Derek can reply Talia cuts in.

“That won’t be necessary. However many you need, we can provide them to you.”

“Oh gosh, no. I should buy them. It’s for charity!”

Talia smiles again.

“So Stiles, do you have a suit?” Laura asks, her eyes shifting between him and Derek.

He does a quick run through of his closet mentally. “Not a gala appropriate one .. I guess not.”

She brightens up. Like a lightbulb. Like a thousand lightbulbs.

“I’ll take you to go get one!”

“Well, my friends Lydia and Allison were going to take me today.”

She smiles even wider. “Great! We can go together!”

Before Stiles can open his mouth she is already excusing herself from the table.

“I’ll go get dressed!”

 

* * *

 

Shopping with the girls was .. pretty much everything he imagined but somehow worse. The usual Allison-Lydia double team became the Allison-Lydia-Laura triple team. They just click immediately; Laura’s intellect and sass impress Lydia, and her warm humor wins Allison.

The shopping is traumatizing. They pull him into half a dozen stores, pulling and picking at him like a barbie doll. They pick out an armful of suits, ambush him inside the dressing room, and then pinch and pull on certain parts of his body.

After each suit they stand back and watch him. They whisper to each other, holding their chins, narrowing their eyes. Stiles feels like a piece of meat in the middle of starving tigresses. They make him stay perfectly still as they circle around him, occasionally whispering something about Derek.

After awhile he doesn’t even dress and undress himself, the girls do it for him. He doesn’t really have much dignity left to hold on to anyways.

Five stores, twenty-three suits, eleven ties, and hours later, they finally find one that pleases them. Stiles doesn’t even care if he wears a trashbag to the gala, he was completely drained.

“Wow.” Allison says, her smile wide and pearly.

“This might be the one.” Laura closes one eye and tilts her head to look at him. She grins.

Allison looks at her. “You think he’ll like it?”

Stiles groans. “I’m right here. You can, you know,  _ask_ me if I like it.”

Laura deadpans at him. “We aren’t talking about  _you._ ”

He frowns. “Then who-“

“Alright, take it off Stiles. We’re getting this one.” Lydia shoos off into the dressing room and doesn’t follow him in. She closes the door and they start whispering on the other side.

He rolls his eyes at them and undresses by himself for the first time in the entire day.

 

* * *

 

Laura buys him the suit without accepting any denials from Stiles, saying something about ‘you will thank me later’.

The girls decide that it was the perfect time to shop for their dresses as well, so Stiles just meanders behind them through the crowded mall. They seem to have an endless amount of conversations ready for each other, passing through different stores and different outfits. Stiles gets to watch his beautiful friends try on dresses that they wear perfectly. Each and every one they try on, Allison and Lydia wear them flawlessly. Laura is automatically stunning in anything she puts on, her natural Hale beauty accentuated in every curve. He cannot imagine how lucky he is to get such gorgeous and kind people in his life.

At the end of it all, they go into some store that Laura says her family goes to all the time for clothes. She says she saved it for last because they sell all the best attire, especially for formal events.

It’s a fairly large place with two floors and it turns out there are quite some people in the store, so Stiles gets separated somewhere in the high heels section.

As he wanders through the bottom floor looking for the escalator he can’t help but feel like uncomfortable. Like there is someone watching him, its some inherent feeling he has gotten from being around his dad so much.

Stiles gives a quick look around his vicinity and is blurred by the amount of people flocking around. He continues to walk towards the back of the store, where the escalators are when he gets the feeling again. It’s different this time, and he starts feeling nervous.

As he steps onto the escalator and as it slowly ascends upstairs, he catches it.

A flame of ash blonde hair, two bright blue eyes. A sharp, blinding smile.

He knows her. He’s seen her somewhere.

Somewhere.

Where has he seen her?

The escalator continues to rise and she remains still, she is watching him.

Blonde hair.

Blue eyes.

She smiles, and then he knows.

It’s Kate.

He blinks and she is gone. Stiles can feel his throat go dry, his skin starts to crawl over barbed-wire bones. He searches the first floor but he can’t see her, the escalator goes up and he can’t see her anymore.

Was that her?

Was it really her?

He turns around and feels his heart pound at a frightening rate, his fingers fidget against the rail and he finally reaches the top.

It couldn’t have been.

How would she have known?

She looked at him .. like she knew who he was.

But how would that be possible?

How?

Has she .. been watching him?

Following him?

He steps forward, walking aimlessly, his heart pounding so loud in his head.

A hand lands on his shoulder blade and he whips around, ready to run.

“Stiles!”

Brown hair. Brown eyes.

She frowns when she looks closely at him. “Stiles, are you okay?”

He has to swallow hard before he can reply. “Y-yea. I – just. Yea, I’m okay. Just got lost.”

Allison nods and her mouth starts moving. But he can’t really hear her. He looks around the room one more time.

He looks for Kate one more time.

She isn’t there.

She’s in his head.

 

 


	15. Predator

It takes him maybe all week before his mind tears itself to pieces. The thought of Kate had been planted in his head like a seed. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, feeding it more and more of his time. Eventually, Stiles couldn’t take it anymore, his skin prickled nonstop, his head on constant alert.

It shouldn’t have taken him so long, but at the end of the week, he was finally ready to face it.

He wasn't invited for dinner after work that night, and it was probably way past midnight, so it didn't matter.

But if there was even a chance that Kate was back, then Stiles didn’t care what time it was. Derek meant too much to him, way too much. If there is even a thread of a chance that Kate was back, then he wouldn’t risk it. Derek was too important. If anything was threatening to harm him, Stiles would do whatever it took to stop it. This man waltzed into his life and wrote his name on every corner of his bones, left his mark on every inch of his flesh.

There was no going back. So Stiles will go forward.

He presses ‘call’ on his phone as he drives into the Hale estate.

It rings three times before someone picks up.

“Hello Stiles.”

“Hey Peter. Could you open the gate for me? I’ll explain in person.” Stiles hangs up the phone and drives into the driveway. He only has to wait a minute before the white gates slowly swing open, which meant he didn’t wake Peter up.

He parks the car in the large lot and before he can make it halfway to the door Peter is already standing there, his arms behind him.

The man carries his usual expression. His grey eyes swallow the moonlight expertly, shadows cling around his throat. Stiles makes it to the door and Peter steps back, inviting him in.

“I’m sorry for coming by so late.”

Peter closes the door and watches him. “Did you come by to see Derek?”

Peter knows Stiles would've just called Derek if he was coming to visit him. Peter already knows that, but his lips ask anyways. What a complicated man, he is.

Stiles shakes his head. “I – I had some questions.”

“Questions only I could answer?”

The man already knows the answer to this as well, but this time he doesn’t wait for Stiles to answer. He leads them down the hallway to a study across Peter’s room. It was a part of the house Stiles never ventured to before, he was told Peter was a very private person. Being invited into his private study is surprising. He enters and Peter turns on the light. Two of the walls are entirely bookshelves, one wall is made primarily of glass. There is a table against the other wall. Everything is neat and nothing is out of place. There are paintings, put no picture frames. 

Peter clicks the door shut and walks over to his desk, leaning against it. He watches Stiles.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“No bother, Stiles. How can I help you?” He says. Stiles has one arm wrapped around himself, another propped against his chin. He starts slowly pacing.

“This might be nothing. But it also could be something. And I hope its nothing, but if it  _is_  something, then I need to let someone know. Because even if it  _is_  nothing, I rather be sure that it’s not something.” He pauses to look at Peter, whose expression remains unchanged.

“Obviously something is bother you, and that’s not nothing.”

He stares at Peter. His logic is very sound. Stiles nods.

“Okay, well me and Laura and two of my friends went to go the mall at the beginning of this week. And all day I felt really really strange.” He stops pacing and considers his words. His pacing resumes. “I felt .. anxious. I thought it was just the constant changing and unchanging and moving from store to store. But it wasn’t.” He stops pacing again, but continues to look at the hardwood floor. Even this is neat and tidy.

“The feeling followed me wherever I went. It was like .. like someone was watching me.” He glances at Peter, who nods curtly.

Stiles came to Peter because he was the only person who would understand. He is the only one who knows about Stiles’ past. He understands.

“At the last store we stopped at. I got the feeling again. And then ..” He swallows. “I saw .. someone. A woman. She was watching me. And smiling. And then I knew that she had been watching me all day. Following me.”

He clenches his fists tightly, leaning against the bookshelf to stabilize himself. The fidgeting wasn’t helping.

The color in Peter’s eyes change. He understands what Stiles is afraid of. It is intimidating, how wise this man is, how smart and cunning he is. He only has to watch Stiles, listen to the pitch of his voice, analyze the shift of his body; and he can read Stiles.

“You think it was Kate.” He says, his voice no different than it was on the phone.

Stiles bites his lip and nods.

“What did she look like?”

“Blonde. Blue eyes. White teeth. I .. I came to see if you could show me a picture.” Stiles doesn’t know why he assumes Peter would have one, but he does anyways.

Peter only turns his body slightly, picking up a manila folder right on the corner of his desk. He hands it to Stiles.

Stiles walks over and carefully takes it. He sets it down besides where Peter is leaning against. His fingers trace the outline before pulling it open. It only takes Stiles a second to recognize that the entire folder was full of information on Kate.

Information that would be normally unattainable to the regular person. There was so much private data and Stiles doesn’t even want to imagine how Peter has gotten his hands on it.

On the first page there is a picture.

Stiles runs his eyes over it only once to know exactly who she is.

She is the one at the store.

The one in Derek’s sketchbook.

The one in his mind.

This is her.

Peter only needs the hitch in Stiles breath as confirmation.

“This was her. It was her.” He whispers.

Peter places a snowflake finger on Stiles’ chin, pulling him so that they make eye contact. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed. A change. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Were you with Laura all day?”

He thinks about the entire day, fast-forwarding it in his mind. He shakes his head. “No, not all day.”

Peter steps away, pulling a hand up to his chin. He is thinking.

Then .. as Peter silently thinks, it hits Stiles. Kate.  _It was Kate._ “Oh god, oh god. She’s back. She’s here. Derek’s in danger.” His heart starts beating rapidly. He hopes so bad that his eyes were playing tricks on him. He knows that that is impossible. She was here. And she was after Derek. It suddenly gets so hard to breathe.

What if she took Derek?

What if she took him back?

What if she hurt him?

Tortured him?

 _Again_!

What was he supposed to do?

What was he supposed to do!

“Stiles.” A gentle hand brings him back, it rests softly on Stiles’ shoulder. “Breathe Stiles, breathe.” He does. Peter’s voice is strong.

“What if she hurts Derek again. Oh god, what if I didn’t tell anyone? Fuck, fuck, fuck. She’s going to take him away isn’t she? She’s going to-“

“ _Stiles_. Stop.” He looks at the man, his expression is steeled. “Calm down. We will figure things out. I won’t let her take my nephew again. She won’t take him away.”

For a second, Stiles can believe him.

He pulls out his phone and dials his dad’s number. It was well past midnight, but this couldn’t wait.

Peter slips out the room with a pat on Stiles shoulder.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Mm. Hello?” His dad’s voice is scratchy, still under a sheen of sleep.

“Dad. Dad wake up.”

There is a rustle of fabric, urgent movement. His dad’s voice clears up instantly. “Stiles, son are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m okay dad, I’m okay. I’m at the Hale house.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I saw Kate.”

“ _What_?”

“I  _saw_ Kate, dad. I saw her at the beginning of this week. I saw her. She was here. At the mall.” He talks fast, but he trusts his dad to understand him.

“Wait, wait. You saw her? Are you okay? Why are you just telling me this now?”

“Because. I didn’t know it was her. Peter gave me a picture to confirm. And it was her, dad. You can’t let her hurt Derek. You can’t dad-”

“Stiles, calm down. I won’t let anyone get hurt.” There is more rustling and Stiles hates that he continues to burden his father. “I’m going to put some officers around the Hale house. And I’ll be in contact with Mark and Talia to see how they want to do about this and further security.”

“Okay.”

“Stiles?”

“Yea?”

“Everything will be okay. We will find her.”

 _Before or after she finds Derek?_ He wants to ask, but he doesn’t.

“Dad, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be stupid. It’s my job to catch criminals.”

“It’s not your job to keep dealing with me.” He replies, shoulder defeated.

“It’ll always be my job to take care of you Stiles.”

“I know. I’m sorry anyways.”

His dad lets out a sigh. “Well I’m not. See if you can stay at the Hale’s tonight, I don’t want you driving with your head all stressed. Okay?”

“Yea, okay dad. Thanks.”

“No problem . I love you."

“Love you too.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you alright Stiles?” Talia pulls him in for a hug. It is warm and reminds him so much of his mom. He is happy that Talia considers him someone close. He melts into it just for a second before pulling away.

“Yea. I’m sorry for waking you up so late at night.”

Talia, Mark, Peter and Stiles were now relocated in Talia’s study. It reminds Stiles a lot of the oval office, it’s design extremely similar. They stand around her desk. Peter went to wake them both and he relayed the information after Stiles shook his head when asked if he wanted to repeat it.

Talia unsurprisingly wears a stoic face, however unlike Peter, her eyes shine many different things. Mark has a displeased expression, his arms crossed, his eyebrows furrowed. Peter remains unchanged.

“It’s fine. I’m glad you came by to tell us this.”

Peter hands Mark and Talia the manila folder and Stiles sees that the folder was prior kept secret. It was a private investigation. Both Mark and Talia are surprised by its contents. They read over them, swapping files.

“She is a lie.” Peter says. “Everything she told us and Derek was a lie. She is not who she says she is, her records are all false. They are well coded, but they are false. The only thing that seems to be real about her is her name. Anything else is fake.” He has spent the past few months searching for Derek. Researching Kate. He knew. Peter knew. He knew and he tried everything he could to find her.

This scares Stiles, but he doesn’t show it.

Talia scoffs, Mark scowls. They put the files down and none of them question Peter’s hidden information.

“What is her motive? She tried to get information on the company, but now we know of her intentions. She can’t possible have the same goal.” Talia puts a hand against her lips.

“You’re right. It is unlikely that is her goal. It would be almost impossible to accomplish it now that we know what she is capable of.” Peter replies.

“Then what does she want?” Mark asks, his hands running through his hair.

“Derek?” Stiles says, and they all turn to him. He meant to say it in his mind. He has been thinking it over and over, but saying it seems to solidify some kind of fear inside of him.

Peter nods. “That’s possible. Maybe as leverage? A trade? Revenge? Finish what she started? The possibilities are endless.”

Stiles feels his limbs start to fidget with unwanted anxiety. He slows his breaths to prevent a panic attack.

“What did the chief say?” Peter asks. How Peter knows who Stiles called is something he wonders.

Stiles swallows and grips his hand against the desk to prevent fidgeting. “He said he would station officers around the vicinity and that he would come in contact with Talia and Mark to discuss further action.”

Talia nods, pulling out her phone and stepping out the room. He hears her voice say ‘Chief Stilinski’ before it tapers off.

Mark speaks up. “What puzzles me is .. why did she make her presence known? Why didn’t she just hide? It would have made it plenty easier for her to do whatever she wants.”

Stiles thinks about this, runs it across his mind like he has for the past hour. His head comes up with no answers.

_And why did she reveal herself to me?_

Is what he really wants to ask.

How did she know him?

A hand finds the top of his head. It ruffles his hair, carding through it once, pulling at his scalp. He looks up to see a warm Mark. “Hey, why don’t you go to bed for tonight?”

“But-“

“There’s nothing we can do at the moment. Tomorrow we will figure things out, okay? You’ve done enough kiddo. And you look tired. Just catch some sleep in the guest room. I’ll wake you up tomorrow.”

Stiles nods once and gets up.

“What about Derek?” He asks.

“We’ll tell him tomorrow. No point in waking him up in the middle of the night.”

Stiles nods again and makes his way to the door.

Mark walks his way over and plants a kiss on his forehead before ruffling it again. “Thanks again kid. I owe you a lot for looking out for my son.”

Stiles smile shyly. “You don’t owe me anything Mark. I have this thing for looking out for your son.”

Mark smiles and Stiles even catches a small grin on Peter.

He leaves the room and goes upstairs.

 

* * *

 

It was foolish to think that he would be able to get any sleep at all. His skin was already in a constant state of vibration, his mind a train-wreck of broken thoughts. Images of Derek’s body the first day Stiles saw him in those woods. They flash across his thin eyelids every time he even attempts close his eyes.

He closes his eyes and hears Derek’s desperate screams. He hears the pleading, the repetition of ‘Kate, please, Kate’ over and over again. He feels his heart crash like waves against his eroded ribs. Sharp.

His skin tingles with memories of abuse, his muscles contract and expand. He knows how it feels. To be hurt and betrayed by the person you once loved. To be ripped apart by the hands that put you together. To be burned by the flesh that has once kept you warmth. To be torn apart by lips that have once put air in your lungs.

To feel your skin and bones rip and fracture. He knows exactly what Derek lives with every waking day. He knows how hard it must be to hide how he really feels.

Stiles doesn’t think about it, he tries his best not to. Because he knows how hard it is, how it feels to act and pretend. To have to pretend that your insides are whole even when they are in threads. To pretend that the world is whole when it crumbles beneath your soles.

To pretend so others don’t have to worry.

Derek does it, Stiles can tell. But he doesn’t say anything. Because he didn’t want anyone to say anything to him back then.

But maybe, maybe that’s why he’s so messed up now.

How alone Derek must feel. How broken he must feel.

How he has the urge to swallow all of this pain so that no one else has to see it.

It is desecrating.

 

* * *

 

He stands in front of Derek’s room for a good ten minutes before knocking on it. There is no response and Stiles doesn’t want to make too much noise to wake Laura and Cora.

So he opens the door and slips inside.

The room is dark, illuminated by moonlight slipping through closed blinds. Stiles can make out the bed easily in the darkness, he walks softly towards it, careful not to bump into anything. He stands at the side, watching Derek’s golden skin under darkness and pale moonlight.

“Derek.” He whispers. “Derek.”

The man shifts slightly, but doesn’t wake up.

Stiles places a gently hand on his shoulder and he shakes.

Derek jolts awake and grabs Stiles forearm tightly. He moves in fluid, strong motions, eyes tearing awake. Green.

Stiles yelps as quietly as he can, but Derek’s grip is steel, his nails sink into Stiles.

He hates that Kate has taken away the peace of Derek’s sleep. He knows how it feels.

“Derek.” He says again, lips biting back a cry. His forearm was most likely bruising, he was always like a fruit.

The man lightens his grip almost instantly. “S-Stiles?” His voice sounds hurt and confused at the same time. The release allows Stiles to relax slightly, his skin aches minutely. “What are you doing here?”

“I .. I’ll explain tomorrow okay? Just .. please?”

Derek doesn’t even ask. He slides over and Stiles climbs in. He settles like clockwork against Derek, he knows exactly how to fit his body against Derek’s perfectly. A game of tetris he has mastered. Derek’s arms wind around him and warmth bathes the both of them.

“I – I’m so sorry Stiles.” He whispers and Stiles knows he means it. His fingers ghost across Stiles’ forearms. His skin tingles.

“Don’t even. Don’t say sorry to me. You know I hate that. It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt. I woke you up. My fault.” He closes his eyes and lets Derek’s warmth and breathing soak into every pore.

“I fucking hate myself.” He says after awhile.

“What? Why?”

“I always hurt you.”

_You’re wrong._

“Shut up. Don’t ever say that. I mean it Der’.”

A kiss to his neck. Soft. It always is.

He can feel Derek’s breath hitch, like he wants to ask.

“I promise I’ll explain tomorrow. Can we go to sleep for now?”

Derek kisses him again on the same spot.

He can’t give Derek back everything Kate has stolen.

But Stiles can give him whatever he has left.

 

 


	16. Reassurance

Derek is gone when Stiles wakes up.

It’s a strange feeling, waking up without strong arms anchoring him into awareness. Opening his eyes without the feeling of rose-petal lips grazing against his neck. Stiles may have been something to help Derek sleep at night, but Derek was just as much of an anchor for Stiles as well.

They helped each other, and maybe, that’d make it okay.

He puts his nose into the pillow and takes in Derek’s musky scent. The covers are warm, tucked around him obviously by Derek. He feels the space next to him to find that it isn’t warm. It is weird, because Derek never wakes up first.

And then he remembers.

Last night’s conversations pool into his mind.

Peter and Mark and Talia.

Kate.

Stiles pulls back the covers like they are on fire, his bare feet slap against the hardwood floor and he is jetting out of the room like his life depends on it. His chest suddenly feels so cold, his heart beating faster as his mind conjures up terrible images.

Derek gone.

Derek hurt.

She has him.

He is gone.

He has left the bed.

_He has left you._

Once he steps out the door he runs into a solid wall of muscle. The wall lets out a soft groan from the impact.

Stiles stumbles backwards with a yelp, and then corded arms wrap around his waist. He looks up to see Derek’s surprised face. His whole, beautiful face.

“D-Derek.”

“Stiles.”

He removes his hands from Derek’s chest and the man takes his hands from around Stiles’ hips. He silently frowns at the loss of touch.

“You’re here,” he says, voice exasperated. His breathing just slightly labored. He does not realize how scared he is until Derek is physically there in front of him. He catalogs the sun-ray skin and cosmic eyes. Each line is just like he remembers. “You’re here.” He says a second time, just to reassure himself.

“Yea, I’m here.”

“Did Peter-“

“Yea.” His eyes are unreadable. The green drowns out the gold, his eyes roam across Stiles’ face.

“Are you – are you okay?” Derek seems to think about this before replying. He sweeps his eyes across Stiles again before nodding his head and looking downwards.

“I’m okay.”

Stiles places a hand on Derek’s chest, he can feel the tough muscle against his palms. Warm. Derek looks up at him. “Hey, you don’t have to lie to me, you know that right? If you’re not okay, then you’re not okay. Don’t need to lie to me.”

This seems to sound accusatory, because Derek’s eyes widen. “I didn’t mean to lie.”

“I know. You were trying to make me stop worrying. I understand.”

_More than you will know._

“I-“ Derek inhales sharply through his nose, closing his eyes just for a second. How hard he tries, to remain strong in front of Stiles. How hard he tries, not to break in front of Stiles. Stiles has seen it already, but still, Derek tries his best.

Stiles lets him.

Derek takes his hand, their fingers locking, and walks him back into the room. The man sits on his bed and Stiles stands in front of him, slightly in between the crevasse of his legs. There are so many heavy things that sit inside of Derek, so many things that Stiles barely even know about. How heavy these things must be, how scary these demons must be, how difficult it must be, to breathe with no air. How painful it must be.

For a moment, Stiles wishes that he could take away this pain, he wishes he could swallow it all inside of him, because Derek didn’t deserve to house so much grief. Not when he is so beautiful and kind, not when Stiles cannot find a single flaw in the coasts of his skin, not when Stiles cannot taste a single impurity in his lips. Stiles touches Derek and can feel his scarred skin contaminate the man, thats how pure he was.

Derek, whose arms can envelope the stars, whose shoulders can carry the sky. Derek, who will do whatever it takes to protect his family, who will do whatever it takes to hide his pain. He does not deserve such agony inside of him, not when Stiles is here. Not when Stiles is willing to sacrifice to save.

He wishes he can just takes this pain and bury deep inside himself.

He knows there is already so much there.

A little more won’t hurt.

Derek looks up at him, he sits in the puddles of sunlight that graze through the windows. His hair is messy from bed, stubble painted across his chin. Stiles takes a hand and softly brushes his face. The warmth dips into the lines of his palm, hard wiring straight through his veins.

This is where Derek belongs.

He will let Derek do whatever it takes to get rid of his pain. He will take the kisses, if it makes Derek forget. He will sleep in tight arms, if it helps Derek sleep at night. He will let Derek do whatever it takes to settle this pain.

He will be the recovery mechanism, he will be the stepping stone. He will be whatever it takes.

He will sacrifice to save.

If Derek needs to hurt him to feel, if Derek needs to use him to forget.

Stiles will be whatever it takes.

Whatever it takes to get rid of this pained look that haunts Derek’s eyes.

“When she hurt me.” Derek says, “I was tricked. I fell for her act.” Stiles hears _I fell in love._ “She only hurt me because I didn’t see it coming.”

Derek looks down at his hands, his thoughts wandering off. “She can’t hurt me now. Now that I know who she really is. I fell once. I won’t fall for her tricks anymore.”

_But do you still love her, Derek?_

Stiles looks at his steeled face. And he realizes that Derek is saying these things to calm Stiles, to reassure Stiles. How well he knows Stiles, it’s incredible.

“Okay. I believe you. Just – just be careful. I can’t – I don’t want to – I don’t want you to get hurt.”

_I don’t want to lose you._

“I will.”

There are more things that should be said.

There are more things Stiles wants to hear.

Things he wants to say.

But only silence bridges them.

 

* * *

 

“You’re still going on with the gala?” Stiles looks up at Talia, her arms are crossed and she watches Derek. The family is all situated in the living room. Derek sits on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, bent over, Laura sits beside him. Mark and Talia sit on the opposing couch. Peter stands against the wall. Stiles stands beside Peter.

They all seem to feel differently about the situation. For the most part Peter is cool, calm, and collected. Talia tries to put up a steeled expression, but Stiles can see the worried mother in the way her body tightens. Mark is close beside her, providing comfort, for the most part he resembles Peter, but with an annoyed expression. Laura is worried, her hand in Derek’s.

“I can’t cancel it.”

“Are you going to disregard Stiles’ encounter?” Derek looks at Stiles for a second before returning back to his mother.

“No, I’m not. But I can’t cancel the gala, everything is already set in stone. I understand you are worried, but I can’t shut down my life now that Kate is supposedly back. I can’t just crawl into a hole and sit there. The dates and funds are already set for the gala, if I cancel it, we won’t get the money for the charity.”

Leave it to Derek to put charity in front of his well being.

Peter decides this is a good time to cut in. “Whatever happens, we have to leave it to Stiles’ father and the police. They are the only ones who can handle this. We can’t do much except be careful. Derek is right, we can’t stop the gala and we can’t stop his life.”

Talia speaks up. “So what do you suggest we do? Continue our lives knowing that she is still out there, plotting?”

Peter is undeterred. “We will increase security. She can’t do much. She got behind our defenses the first time. She can’t do it again, and if she can’t, then we will not have to worry.”

Stiles looks at Peter. He can’t decide on whether Peter is telling lies to reassure his family, or telling the truth about Kate. It is impossible to tell what this man thinks. He is an enigma.

Peter looks at him, his eyes a stone cold grey.

There is something there, the way his eyes shine.

Reassurance.

He is trying to reassure Stiles.

But Stiles can’t tell if he’s lying or not.

 

* * *

 

“You aren’t going.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Jacks-“

“You  _aren’t_ going.”

The blonde is flipping through a case file, his eyes not even meeting with Stiles. They are in one of the conference rooms of the precinct, the board behind Jackson is tattered with information. Jackson sits at the table, papers spread in front of him. The idle chair next to him belongs to Danny who went to get coffee. It probably isn’t coincidental that he has been gone for over ten minutes.

“I can go wherever I want to go, Jackson.”

The blonde continues to flip through pages. Stiles knows he isn’t actually reading any of it, he’s just pretending to. He’s always pretended to not care in front of Stiles, he’s always pretended to not show emotion in front of Stiles. It doesn’t work, Stiles can always see through it all. They read each other better than anyone else can.

“Now that Surgent has made a reappearance in Beacon Hills anyone associated with Derek Hale is prone to becoming a target. We don’t know much about her, but we know she’s dangerous.”

“Jackson, you can’t  _ground_  me because of that. She could’ve been here this whole time. You didn’t do anything then, did you?” He knows his voice is tighter, louder. And he knows it will anger Jackson.

The blonde looks up at him, those blues glacially cold. It silently pleases Stiles that he could break Jackson from his act.

“Well she chose to make an appearance, and do you know who she made it to?” He stands up. “You, Stiles. Out of all people, she decided to threaten  _you.”_

“What? She didn’t  _threaten_ me, Jackson.”

“Then tell me, what  _did_  she do Stiles? I didn’t hear anything about exchanging pleasantries now did I?”

Stiles sees Jackson slightly clench his fists.

“I – I don’t know, okay?”

“You’re not going to that gala. The venue is too big and there’s too much people attending. It would be impossible to keep you safe the entire time, not without raising alarm.”

“I can do whatever the hell I want! And what makes you think anythings going to even happen? There’s no way she’d do anything with so many people. And she’s only one person! The only reason she hurt Derek was because –“  _He was in love with her._ “she tricked him.”

“I don’t give a damn, she’s dangerous and she’s manipulative. Who knows what the hell she’s capable of. I don’t want you there.” Jackson’s tongue grips tightly on ‘ _I’._

“I already said I don’t care what you say. I made a promise to go and I’m going.”

It was stupid, how they were arguing over something like this.

“To who, your  _boyfriend_?”

“Jackson,“ he warns.

The blonde walks around the desk and stands close to Stiles, their faces inches apart. Stiles can see the red tinge in his cheeks, and he is the only one Jackson will become this color for. He knows it. And he knows it means Jackson is serious in his words.

“No, Stiles. I already almost lost –“ He stops, biting his tongue. “Derek is a dangerous man.”

“What? No the hell he isn’t.”

“He is the target of a dangerous person. If you associate with him, then you are a target as well.”

Somewhere in the heavy breaths and angry words, there is truth. Stiles refuses to admit it.

“I’m not going to abandon Derek, Jackson.”

“Do you love him, Stiles?” Whisper.

He freezes, looking up at Jackson, who had gotten slightly closer. The ice in his blue eyes have melted away. Pain. Worry. They mix in a kaleidoscope of frosty hues.

“W-what?”

Jackson tightens his jaw. There is a look Stiles has only caught a handful of times. “Do you love Derek?”

The look disappears almost as quickly as it dawns. Like a snowflake. Just like that, Jackson’s facade is back.

Stiles swallows. “That has nothing to do wit-“

“Answer me, Stilinski.” His voice, steel and detached. It’s barely above a whisper, but still so deafening in the inches that bridge them.

“Yes,” he replies.

Stiles refuses to ignore the darkening of Jackson’s eyes. The dip of his eyelashes. There is something, Stiles cannot understand it. Jackson looks away, downwards.

“Stiles – I – I can’t.” This is the only time Stiles remembers seeing Jackson act like this. He was always so, so strong. Never once was he weak in front of Stiles, not since high school. Not since Ian. He was always so steeled, so strong, a wall always protecting Stiles. A castle.

This castle, this strength, it also kept away any other emotions. He only showed strength. Never anything else. Never, did he ever let Stiles worry about him again. It was only Jackson worrying for Stiles. Never the other way around.

The guilt, the guilt of not knowing about Ian. It overtook Jackson.

He discarded everything but the will to remain cold and collected.

It is strange, to see another emotion on Jackson.

One that is weak.

_You can’t what, Jackson?_

“I won’t let it happen again.”

And for some reason, Stiles knows that this isn’t what Jackson really wants to say. He won’t say it and Stiles may never know what really haunts Jackson.

“Derek isn’t like that.” Stiles says, his mind a mess.

“You said that about Ian when I asked about your first bruise.”

Stiles feels his heart freeze. Phantom hands reach across his scars.

Fingers, touching him.

Fists, caressing him.

_He’s not there, Stiles. Stop thinking about him._

“I mean it.”

“You said that when I found you in the hospital with a broken arm.” Jackson’s fists curl tightly, his knuckles white. Stiles places his hand on it. It has been awhile since he’s done this. Sucked away guilt and anger from Jackson’s flesh.

For once, Jackson doesn’t shut him out, for once, he doesn’t pull away.

_How bad did I hurt you, Jackson?_

“I’m sorry.” Stiles whispers.

Jackson pulls away after that.

He clears his throat, returning to his seat at the table. Stiles feels his heart drop, his hand still open around the ghost of Jackson’s fist. Jackson returns to his normal voice. “Me and Danny will be going to the gala. Undercover. Chief Stilinski has already set out officers around the proximity. Mr. and Mrs. Hale have coordinated their security with us.” He flips through the papers, eyes leaving Stiles. “We will make sure everything will be safe. Make sure you stay in sight of one of us.”

“Jackson I-“

“Don’t.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“I have some paperwork to finish, do you mind?” There it is again. That facade.

Stiles hates that he can only see the real Jackson when he is upset.

He walks up to the table, anger bubbling inside of him.

“I won’t go,” he says. Jackson stops flipping through the papers. “I won’t go if you don’t want me to.”

The blonde thinks about this. But only for a second. Maybe half of a second.

“That won’t be necessary. The team will make sure of the safety of everyone at the event.”

_Don’t talk to me like I don’t mean anything to you._

He resumes the flipping.

“Okay.” Is all he says.

“I will see you tomorrow night.”

“Yea. Okay.”

On his way out he sees Danny standing outside the door. He wears a solemn expression.

“Can you ..” Stiles asks quietly.

Danny nods. “Yea, I’ll take care of him. Drive safe, okay?”

There is a soft and comforting pat on his shoulder.

He smiles.

 

* * *

 

“How you feeling?”

Stiles flops onto his bed, the phone pressed against his ear. The bed is soft and comforting, but still feels empty without Derek in it.

The man on the phone lets out a sigh.

“Nervous.”

“Cause of-“

“Yea.”

“Don’t worry. My dad’s got everything handled. Just come, show off that smile of yours, flirt with some women who claim to be twenty years younger than they really are. Everything will be okay.”

Silence. A rustle of fabric.

Derek was in bed too, then.

Stiles wonders if Derek feels empty in his covers as well.

“I met her at this event.”

Stiles bites back his anxiety. “Really?”

“Yea.” His voice is neutral. “When I first saw her .. I really thought something right was happening.”

_Do you feel something right is happening now?_

“The way she accidentally bumped into me, the way her perfume was on just right. It was like she could read my mind. It was like she was inside my brain.”

Stiles doesn’t speak. Derek tells him this not because he wants Stiles to hear it, but because he needs to say it. He needs to tell this to someone, to get this off of his chest. Stiles wonders why it’s him Derek chooses to tell. Did he not know what it’d do to him?

“Her eyes changed when she talked about curing cancer. About researching new cures and ways to deal with it. She told me about patients she had seen, she told me about patients she had lost. She was so convincing.”

His words are languid and slow, but also clear and sharp.

“The way she bent over slightly when laughing. The way she seemed to meet my eyes everytime I looked at her. It all felt so real, so real, Stiles.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but doesn’t. He hums to let Derek know he was still listening.

“I think about it. The night I met her. About every day I spent with her. I picked through every interaction, to see if she made any mistakes. To see if she ever broke her act, to see if she ever stopped acting. To see if I could’ve caught her at anytime. If I could’ve seen through her act.”

Stiles grips the phone tight. The pain in Derek’s voice is obvious now.

“I don’t know what’s worse. The fact that there wasn’t a single moment where she stopped acting, or the fact that I fell for it every single time.”

“Derek..”

“I know, I know. Don’t blame myself.”

“We’ll get through this.” He uses we instead of you. Because it was we. Stiles was going to stay as long as Derek needed him. Maybe even after that.

A silence. A sigh. The sound of Derek’s hand sliding against his face.

“We will. We won’t let her hurt you again. Hell,  _I_ won’t let her hurt you again.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. Now get to sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

“Wish you were here.” Derek says, softly.

Stiles closes his eyes. Maybe he can pretend Derek was here with him.

“Me too, Der.”

“Night, Stiles.”

“We’ll get through it. Everything will be okay.” Stiles says, finally.

 

* * *

 

He was wrong.


	17. Real

Some idiot forgets to turn off his oven and an apartment complex is set ablaze. Stiles only gets a text saying ‘ _sorry. fire downtown. be safe’_  from Isaac to let him know that his best friends can’t make it to the gala. It was a disappointment, but he was used to it, and surely they were too. Normally, it wouldn’t be so bad, but this time around, everyone was already so tense.

Scott was slightly on edge ever since Stiles told him about Kate. Isaac and Allison were no different. Danny and Jackson didn’t really show their concerns (although Stiles knew  _exactly_  how Jackson felt). Lydia was somewhere in between, not showing her worry, but also still on edge. None of them really showed it, but Stiles knew they were thinking it.

Stiles was worried, of course he was, but not for the same reasons his friends were. He was worried for  _Derek_. In fact, he was worried about the entire Hale family. Because that was who Kate was targeting. For whatever reason, she was still trying, trying to do whatever it is she wanted. She had been outed by Derek already. Her scheme was revealed, her identity unmasked, Kate’s evil deeds were open to them. The  _police_ and whatever private forces hired by the Hales were  _after_ her, hunting her down to lock her up. But none of this seemed to phase her.

She was outed and not even scared.

That thought alone scared the shit out of Stiles. It was like nothing could scare her, it was like she was invincible. It was like she  _knew_ she was going to get away. The anxiety was constant. It felt like Stiles was bleeding in an ocean full of sharks. It felt like she was just going to turn up somewhere around the corner and catch them off guard. It felt like she was just watching them, waiting for the right time to strike.

It was overwhelming and nerve wracking and  _exhausting._ Feeling constantly in danger.

Normally Stiles would be used to this ‘impending danger’ concept.

However, there seems to be no ‘getting used to’ being scared all the time.

 

* * *

 

The night before the gala, Stiles spends his time thinking about Kate. Trying to think about why Kate was doing this. What she wanted and how she was going to get it. He thought about what she wanted from the Hales. Why she wanted Derek so bad. Why she revealed herself and discarded the element of surprise. Hell, why she was even showing up when she could’ve just disappeared.

He read the information Peter had in the manila folder. It was an extremely thorough packet, Peter could not have missed a thing. Everything was falsified. Her lies seemed to match up, but they were only true on the surface. Further digging and you could see that it was all superficial. Whoever Kate really was, she was an expert at it. All the information was flawless to a blind eye, it looked legitimate if you were just reading it casually. Peter had to analyze her deeper in order to get the truth.

Simply stated, Kate was a professional.

Whatever she is hunting, there is no doubt she is capable of getting it.

Whatever she wanted, she was determined to achieve it.

 

* * *

 

The night of the gala creeps on Stiles after hours of a loud mind and nonstop questions.

In no time, he was already in his suit feeling uncomfortable as ever. His dad was already in his room, knowing how worried he was.

“Derek and his family will be safe.”

Stiles nods, trying his best to believe the argument his dad had continually attempted to make.

_Trust him._

“Yea.” Stiles bows his head slightly.

John lets out a sharp sigh. “Hey.” His fingers grip Stiles chin, lifting his face up.

Stiles looks up at his dad. His eyes are two glasses of scotch, warm and encompassing.

“I promise we will do everything we can to protect them.”

Stiles nods again, biting his lip. “I know. I’m just worried, y’know?”

The chief lets out breath, one of those heavy and tired sighs. “I know, son. But we think it’s unlikely she is gonna try something where so many people are watching. We’ll have eyes everywhere, Stiles. And I’ve assigned Jackson to Stiles duty.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Gee, that’ll be fun.”

“You should make up with him, Stiles.”

“ _Dad.”_

“I mean it. He’s just worried for you.”

“Yea, well he’s being a jerk about it-“

“ _Stiles.”_

 _”Fine_  you bossy old man.”

His dad laughs, ruffling Stiles’ hair.

Stiles duck from under the hand. His dad frowns at him.

“Your tie is messed up Stiles. And how did you even buy this thing, it looks like it’s worth a fortune.” His dad does the eye squint thing and starts fixing his tie.

“Yea, it took me like an hour to even make the first knot right. You never really taught me to do this.”

“Yea, well I’m just as bad as you are. Your mom usually tied them for me.” There is a darkening in his dad’s eyes, a change that only comes every now and then. Stiles can feel the emptiness in that look.

"Did she? Well it looks like you learned."

His dad smiles softly. "I guess I did. So who got you the suit?"

“Laura. Laura Hale, Derek’s sister. She bought it. Took her like two hours to find the right one.”

“Hmm.” His dad pulls a few more times and then tucks it back in Stiles’ suit jacket. “Well you look good in it, son.”

“Of course I do, I  _am_ your son.”

His dad groans and rolls his eyes.

Stiles grins absently and flexes his hands.

His dad places his palms on Stiles shoulders, giving him a firm grip. “Derek will be okay. Don’t worry too much. Try and have some fun.”

Stiles nods.

“Yea, okay.”

 

* * *

 

True to his dad’s words, Jackson shows up right on time for Stiles duty.

“Get in,” Jackson says as the window rolls down.

Stiles steps up to the car, hands pulling on his tie one last time. “Now now Jackson, no need to be rude.”

The blonde puts up his middle finger and unlocks the door.

“Hey, hey no bullying me, I know all about Stiles duty.”

“I can threaten you and then bully you tomorrow. Now get in and put on your belt.”

Stiles mumbles to himself and gets into the porsche. The door shuts and Stiles is absorbed in the scent of expensive smelling cologne. Jackson roars off once Stiles puts on his belt, the blonde makes sure to check Stiles’ belt  with his hands twice.

 “Wow, you don’t look half as bad as I expected,” he says after side-glancing Stiles at a stop light.

“Gee thanks Jacks,” Stiles replies sarcastically.

The light turns green and the car moves. “Don’t call me that.” Stiles scowls at the blonde only to be rewarded by surprise. Jackson looked breathtaking as usual. It wasn’t surprising in the fact that he was handsome, but the caliber of  _how_  handsome took Stiles off guard each time. His suit was prim and proper, gold pin, sleek tie, and leather shoes. His face was shaven, hair slicked back, even his nails were manicured. Stiles could see the outline of a gun in his jacket and assumed that there was another on his ankle.

Jackson puts on a crooked smile after glancing over at Stiles. “See something you like Stilinski?”

“N-no, jerk.” Stiles frowns and crosses his arms, staring out the window.

It was dark outside already, the moon standing tall in the clouds, its white fingers reaching down. The street lights blur by as Jackson’s car zooms down the street.

The talk earlier with his dad wasn’t very successful, there was still this pocket of worry inside of him. It made sense, his dads argument. His points were logical. There was a very small margin for mishap. Kate was only one person, and no matter how manipulative she was, her agenda was already revealed. Her face was known and the entire venue would be protected. There was no reason to be so worried, but Stiles was just that type of person.

“Hey.”

Stiles looks over at Jackson, who avoids eye contact.

Jackson clears his throat. “I won’t let anything happen to your boyfriend, so stop staring outside the window like this is some soap opera.” His voice is in its usual non-caring tone.

“Jacks. I-”

“Look, I get it. You like him. It’s whatever, I don’t give a fu- I don’t care.”

It was easy to see that Jackson was lying. It was a little harder to see that Jackson was holding back.

“Jackson.” The blonde flexes the hand on the steering wheel. “Do you trust me?”

“What?” Jackson sends him a quick glance, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. His attention darts back to the road, jaw clenched.

“Do you trust me, Jackson.”

He doesn’t reply. His throat bobs once in a swallow.

“Derek .. Derek is a good man. He would never hurt me. And I know I said that about ..”

_About Ian._

_I know I said that about Ian._

It’s pathetic how just thinking about him sends Stiles on an internal panic attack.

It’s pathetic how just thinking the name sends chills through him.

Thinking becomes feeling.

Feeling .. phantom hands, phantom whispers.

_“Be a good boy, Stiles.”_

Phantom tongue on the piece of skin behind his ear.

_He’s not here, he’s not here._

_Ian’s not here._

“D-Derek’s not like him.” Stiles clears his throat, clenching his fists. “Derek is good. You can trust him. You can  _trust_ him Jackson.”

Red light, the car jerks at a stop.

Jackson looks to him, eyes ice blue. There is anger somewhere in those glaciers. “Listen closely. I will never trust any man who touches you Stilinski. I will never trust any man that kisses you. I will never trust any man who loves you. Not now, not ever. Ian almost took you away from m-. I almost lost you, do you get that? You were unconscious in my  _arms_. I thought you were gone.“ The light turns green, the soft glow of it caresses Jackson’s face. He lifts his foot off the break and puts it on the gas, eyes leaving Stiles. There is a cold empty feeling that Jackson has paved inside of him.

“So no, Stiles, I won’t trust him. And he may be the best man ever, but even good men can do bad things.”

“I’m sorry.” Stiles whispers, not because he is afraid, but because he is guilty. Guilty for putting Jackson through this.

“Don’t apologize to me.”

Stiles reaches to put his hand on Jackson’s, but the blonde shifts away.

The car turns into a parking lot and the venue comes into view. Stiles peels his eyes away from Jackson, to look. He sees a tall, luxurious building surrounded by lights and glass. Across from it is an extremely wide lake with fountains shooting water in the middle. The water stretches far, broken shards of the moon reflect in its waters.

“Wait in your seat.” Jackson stops the car at the entrance and gets out. After tossing his keys to a valet attendant, he walks around and opens Stiles’ door.

“You don’t have to worry about staying in my sight, I’ll be following you. I’m sure you know the drill.”

Stiles doesn’t try to talk to Jackson anymore, not when the man has already switched to his usual facade. 

“Yea, I know the drill.”

Jackson will watch him, just like he always has.

 

* * *

 

Stiles lets out a pleased sigh upon seeing the man who worked in the Hale house at the front entrance. He was checking names at the door with a couple of security guards in black standing beside him. Stiles gives the man his ticket and name and the man scans the list and returns a smile.

“Welcome, Mr. Stilinski. The event has already started. I have been told that Mr. Hale is looking for you. You may find him in the main ballroom.” The man distantly reminds Stiles of the batman’s butler. He smiles and nods, walking in.

When he enters the room, there are dozens of people mingling in a large ballroom, each of them wearing expensive looking suits and dresses. Wherever he looks, there is finesse and refinement. Business men cradling cups of champagne in their palms talking to partners of interest. Beautiful women in beautiful dresses giving fake laughs and touching men flirtatiously.

The ballroom was luxurious, large chandeliers, gold and silver decor, tall pillars, stained glasses. A small orchestra in the corner playing music, ice sculptures and tables of hors d’oeurves. There was so much fortune in a single room, the wealthiest people were here, people you would see in the news and on top of magazines. Stiles takes in a deep breath before walking into the crowd.

The first person he finds in the crowd is Lydia. Her red hair like flames tied into an bun. On her skin, a figure hugging red dress. A gold clutch and gold heels.

Upon seeing him, she smiles and walks up to him.

“I’m glad you didn’t choke yourself trying to tie that tie.”

“You look nice too, Lydia." He smiles to the best of his ability. "Where is everyone else?”

“Allison is in the restroom, Danny is off being 007. And I hear your boys are off saving the day again.”

A waiter comes by with a tray and Stiles takes two glasses of champagne, handing one to Lydia. She smiles at the waiter and continues. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay.” He begins to scan the crowd in the corner of his eye.

Lydia rolls her eyes. “You’re fidgeting.”

“Am not.” Stiles glances across the rows again. The room is full of people mingling and waiters walking, it is impossible to make out anyone.

Lydia places a hand on his shoulder. On her middle finger, a beautiful gold ring. He stills and looks away from the ring and back at her. Somewhere in her perfectly composed face, there is worry. “You’re fidgeting, Stiles.  _Actual_ fidgeting. I have watched you accidentally nick an artery in an 8 hour surgery and be completely calm. Just because the psychotic exgirlfriend of your boyfriend  _might_ be out there doesn’t mean you should freak out.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

The two start walking, Lydia slipping her arm onto his, her other hand holding the glass. Stiles absently walks with her, travelling through the crowd. Their talking is above a whisper, just enough for each other to hear while others just see them smiling.

“Oh please Stiles you guys basically have heart eyes for each other. I have trouble forcing back a gag when I see you two.” Some of the people they pass by smile at Lydia and wave. Lydia nods back with a casual greeting. Stiles doesn’t ask how she knows so many people, afterall she  _is_ Lydia Martin.

“He .. he doesn’t feel that way.”

“Oh you have  _got_ to be kidding me.”

He doesn’t reply, just bites his tongue.

_Stop it Stiles._

“You’re serious?” She halts to a stop, pulling him back. Stiles looks at her and receives  _the look_. “Is this the ‘I don’t deserve anyone’ complex again?” Her eyes flare, long lashes hover over hazel irises. Her lids have nude accents on them, her brows are arched, and her lips are a matte red.

Stiles looks away, fingers buttoning and rebuttoning his shirt. He feels an uneasy wave roll through his chest, stomach churning, fingers tapping.“Can we not talk about this here?”

“Stiles, we worked through this. Hey, look at me. Listen to me.”

He looks at her, her face remains casual but her lips purse, they purse when she is upset about something.

Her voice is just above a whisper, quiet enough for him to hear, but loud enough to know she’s serious. “Listen to me, Stiles.  _This_  is real.  _Derek_  is real. That voice inside of your head? The one thats saying Derek doesn’t feel anything for you? Maybe it’s saying this isn’t real? Or maybe it’s saying he’s using you? Don’t listen to it. He is  _not_ Ian and he will never be Ian.” She digs a newly polished fingernail into his chest. “You’ve walked on glass for the past five years, Stiles. Derek can’t love you. Not if you don’t let him.”

“Lydia I-“

“No more thinking Stiles.” She takes his champagne glass and places it on the tray of a waiter walking by. She turns him around and shoves forward.

Stiles stands confused for a second before he sees six feet of sexy in a slim fitted black suit right in front of him. Shiny black hair smoothed backwards, light stubble dusted across sharp features. Emerald green eyes,  _ridiculously_ long eyelashes. Flawless fitting suit, gold cufflinks, black bowtie, perfect dress pants.

Suddenly, there is no air.

“D-Derek..”

The man grins wide, pieces of the sun in his smile. “You look amazing, Stiles.” Derek’s voice purrs and growls at the same time. His eyes spark a familiar color as they reflect Stiles.

_It’s time to stop walking on glass._

_This is real._

_He is real._

 


	18. Appearance

The first part of the charity gala consists of the meet-and-greet. Derek goes around and shakes hands with partners of the family, a celebrity or two, and other valued guests. At first Stiles awkwardly stands beside Derek, sipping absently on a flute of (expensive and refined) champagne. Derek pays Stiles little to no attention, barely even spares a glance.

So, Stiles just stands aside and watches the way Derek works. Watches the way charisma and charm flows through his voice and his posture. Admires the angle of his shoulders when he laughs politely, admires the way the left side of his lip quirks upwards before the right, admires the way his eyelashes collide when he blinks. He watches this man unravel Stiles just by existing.

It’s strange, how time seems to slow when Stiles watches the way beauty unfolds inside Derek’s eyes. How seasons seem to occur all at once in the span of a few seconds, how Derek seems to spark familiar fires inside of him.

It is terrifying, to feel this way for someone again. To feel like your heart  _belongs_ to someone else. To know that someone else has the ability to control you. To know that when he touches you, walls begin to crumble, to know when he kisses you, lungs begin to empty. It is terrifying to  _love_ someone again, to want and give someone your everything.

It is hard to believe. That there can be another person who can make him feel this way, that there can be another person who will love him. It is even harder to believe that this person  _won’t_  hurt him. Somewhere in his mind, in big bright letters, there are words that tell him that Derek would  _never_  hurt him. That Derek would rather hurt himself than hurt Stiles. Derek has said it time and time again. Often with his words, but also with his actions. Derek holds him with titanium bones, protects him with everything he’s got. It is hard to believe that someone like this can hurt him.

But once, Stiles believed this about Ian as well. He once believed that Ian had the world in his palms, he once believed that there was nothing Ian couldn’t protect him from. He once gave his everything to another man, believing that he would protect him from anything. It turned out that the person who was supposed to protect him, ended up being the one who destroyed him.

So as Stiles watches the way Derek moves, watches the way his shoulder blades move under his suit, watches the way his fingers curl around a glass of champagne, he pays attention to other things, too. He pays attention to the way his heart beats fast, pays attention to how his chest constricts in on itself. Pays attention to how deep in he is. How deeply he has fallen for the man beside him. This man who he found broken in the woods, this man who he vowed to protect. This man who has ended up protecting him. It is hard to believe that this man can protect him from everything as well.

His body was once an empty house. Ian stole everything and destroyed it. Stiles was nothing but creaking floorboards and empty walls. But Derek came in and filled this emptiness. Filled it with kisses on the nape of his neck and gentle laughs in his ears. It is hard to believe that a man like this can ever hurt him.

Derek lets out a polite laugh and things happen inside Stiles. He gulps another mouthful of champagne, hoping it will provide some gentle buzz for his nerves. It doesn’t seem to help much.

He walks up close, leans over, and whispers in Derek’s ear.

“I’m gonna go find Laura, kay?”

Derek turns his head and gives him a look, but Stiles smiles and nods his head.

“Okay, I’ll find you in a bit.”

Stiles gives a polite smile to the man Derek is talking to and then leaves with a pat on Derek’s back.

 

* * *

 

He finds Laura near the baby sandwich table. She is wearing a deep purple dress with silver accents. He hair is in an updo showing off sterling silver earrings and a beautiful silver necklace. Her makeup is bold but she wears it well.

He walks up to her as she takes a bite out of a sandwich.

She turns to him and her eyes widen. “Shtiles!” She swallows the food and grins. “Stiles! You’re here! You look great.”

He smiles at her. “Are you complimenting me or the suit you picked out?”

She playfully punches him in the arm. “Both, you brat. Now walk with me.” She extends her arm and Stiles slips it in his elbow. They begin a steady walk through the crowd. Heads turn and nod at Laura, she politely returns the greeting.

“So why aren’t you with your date? Is my brother being a jerk again?” She lightly leans against him, her other hand curls around his upper arm, fingers gently rubbing against him. It provides a soothing effect, and it is strange how she knows when he is distraught.

“Nah, he’s just talking to people and I felt like I was in the way, so yea.” Stiles bites the inside of his lip.

Laura swipes up a glass from a waiter and talks around it. “Don’t be stupid, you’re like drugs to that idiot. He can’t get enough of you. He’s addicted.”

Stiles frowns. “I don’t know. He’s said like three words to me all night. And he hasn’t looked at me more than twice. Do you think the suit makes me look fat? Cause I’ve been putting on some weight and-“

“Stiles, do not blame the suit. The suit is beautiful because I picked it out.” She squints at him.

He scowls back. “So you’re calling me ugly.”

“No, I’m calling you an overexaggerator.”

“That’s not even a word. And I knew this was a bad idea. I don’t even know why he asked me to be his date.”

“Ugh! I swear! You two idiots are like highschoolers. Before the damn thing started he was practically have a nervous breakdown worrying about how he looked. He started pacing around the house looking like a mess.”

“Well, he doesn’t seem to be all that worried now..”

Stiles can feel Laura rolling her eyes at him. “Must I do everything around here? Do I look like a dating agency?” She walks ahead, pulling Stiles along until they reach the center of the ballroom where Derek is. The man is talking to another person now, a woman who seemed to be around her thirties. She was laughing with extra enthusiasm, even landing a few touches on his chest.

When they reach Derek and the woman, Laura quickly greets them.

“Mary! You look  _gor_ -geous as always!” The woman turns to Laura and breaks into a not entirely genuine smile. Laura lets go of Stiles and engages in a polite hug with Mary. She steps back and smiles.

Mary looks at Stiles and raises her eyes. “Is this your date? I believe we haven’t met yet. I’m Mary Lupeli, I’m a family friend of the Hales.” She reaches out a gloved hand and Stiles shakes it softly.

“I’m Dr. Stiles Stilinski. I’m a neurosurgeon at Beacon Hills Hospital. I uh, am a friend of the Hales as well.” He grins as genuinely as he can.

Her mouth opens in surprise as she nods. She turns her head to Laura and grins. “Laura! You didn’t tell me you found a  _surgeon._ ”

Laura puts up her hands in surrender. “He’s not my date.”

Mary raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Then ..”

Stiles looks down at his feet.

_Apparently, I'm no one's date.._

Before he gets the chance to say anything, Derek clears his throat.

A few clicks of dress shoes and then an arm wraps around his waist. Stiles looks up to find Derek pressed against his side, warm and smelling of expensive cologne.

“He’s my date, Mary.” Derek says it with charm and possessiveness. 

His heart skips a thousand beats.

Stiles feels a blush creep on his face as he looks to see Mary genuinely surprised. She tries to cover up her astonishment and crosses her arms.

“Derek Hale! All these years I’ve been trying to make passes at you! You could’ve said something!”

Stiles begins to squirm but Derek’s hand grips his hipbone in just the right way, pulling him into Derek. He looks around to see if anyone watches, but Derek catches his attention.

Derek lets out a chuckle, his charming grin appears. “Sorry Mary. But I guess I found the one.” He then looks at Stiles for the second time that night. Dark green eyes that seem to swallow Stiles whole. A different smile appears and time seems to slow. Seasons seem to bloom all in a span of seconds.

How strange it feels, to belong to someone again.

How strange it feels, to want to belong to someone again.

“Okay, you two are basically diabetes. Come on Mary, let’s go before I start to realize how lonely and single I am.” She puts her arm around Mary’s and leads her off. She throws Stiles a sneaky grin and mouths ‘you’re welcome’ before turning around.

Stiles looks away from her and back at Derek.

Derek. Six feet of pure muscle and charisma dressed in a slim fitted suit and smelling like heaven.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Derek smiles at him. He grabs his hand and says, “come on.”

The man pulls him through the crowd until the reach the far wall where the doors to the deck are. Derek opens the glass door and leads Stiles out onto the deck.

He closes the door behind him and smiles at Stiles.

Stiles grins and walks towards the ledge, looking at the wide lake. Derek follows him and stands beside him. There are some guests on the deck mingling, but not nearly as many as there are inside. The few people that see Derek greet him and he politely returns a wave or a nod. There are outdoor couches, chairs, a few tables. Tall vintage street lamps dimly illuminate the area. Soft classical music plays quietly from speakers and muted conversations arise from the guests. The most breathtaking part however is the beautiful dark lake that captures shards of the moon and the lights.

“You look amazing.”

“You said that already, smooth guy.”

“Well it’s true.”

Stiles looks absently into the waters, smile dying down to a thin line. “So uh, Mary, huh?”

Derek lets out a sigh and leans against the rail. “She’s .. perseverant.”

Stiles leans one elbow on the ledge and turns his body to face Derek. “She looked pretty close to her goal tonight.”

Derek frowns slightly. “Stiles..”

He lets out a little chuckle. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. You know me, my mouth says whatever it wants. Stupid thing.”

The man steps closer, bridging the space between them. He doesn’t even look around to see if anyone's watching. It takes Stiles some effort to forget that  _this,_ whatever this was, wasn’t some dirty little secret.

_He is real._

_He is here._

“Stiles..” Derek says again, bringing up a hand and placing it gently on Stiles’ face. The touch is soft, so, so soft. Almost like the first droplets of rain during a storm. The warmth is a stark difference against the chilled air of the night. “This is real. You know this is real right?”

It is uncomfortable to feel the air in his chest disappear. Looking up at these eyes that seem to have galaxies inside of them. “What?”

“Before the event .. Laura .. Laura told me you had doubts.” Derek’s voice is quiet, but the words seem so loud around Stiles.

Stiles swallows, feeling his throat dry.

_Now or never._

_It’s time to stop walking on glass._

“I can be your rebound,” he says, “I can be what you need.”

Derek furrows his eyebrows. He places his other hand on the tip of Stiles’ hipbones. His palms meets it perfectly, he knows exactly where it is, exactly how to hold it.

“And what is it you think I need?”

“Healing? To get better? To forget?” The words seem awkward in his mouth.

“You think I’m using you, Stiles. Have you been thinking that all this time?” Derek’s voice sounds hurt, his fingers shake against Stiles’ face.

“I .. I don’t know. Would it be cowardly to admit it?” He looks down, away from Derek’s eyes. Somehow, they make him feel so insignificant.

“Stiles. Stiles look at me.” His eyes flutter upwards slowly, afraid of the weight that is bound to suffocate him. Afraid of the inevitable weight that will come and crush him. For being wrong, for being incorrect.

It doesn’t come. Derek’s eyes are deep but weightless at the same time. They surround him instead of swallowing him whole. He wonders how it would feel to be among the constellations in his eyes.

“This is real. This is  _real_ Stiles. It always has been. I’ve never .. I would never use you.” He presses his forehead against Stiles. The fingers at his hip slide behind him, circling the base of his spine. Every movement, every touch feels so powerful. It all feels so real. The grip on his back, the fingers on his cheek. The breaths on his lips. It feels real.

“So everything .. it all was ..”

“Real. Every kiss. Every touch. Every night. Everything.”

Slowly, slowly, Derek presses his lips against Stiles’. The kiss is soft and languid. Derek presses his tongue against his lips and he opens them, letting Derek in, letting him taste the urgency. Derek tastes of champagne and Stiles lets out a soft whimper from the back of his throat.

He pulls back, breaking the kiss. Derek groans at the loss, but Stiles gestures his head towards the door. He almost forgot that they were in a public place.

“Damn it Stiles.” He says softly, pulling apart. “All this time .. why didn’t you say anything?” He places space between them, but his body leans forward like he needs the warmth of Stiles.

Stiles frowns, feeling his chest cave in on itself. “Because I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” There is a certain sound of helplessness in his voice.

“There’s .. there’s something I have to tell you. But not here.”

Derek only takes a second to reply. He nods. “Okay. But promise me something first.”

“What?”

“Never doubt this – never doubt us again okay?”

It feels freeing, it feels like shackles have been broken around his ankles. It feels like he can actually breathe now. It feels .. real.

“Yea, yea okay.”

 

* * *

 

The second part of the gala is less eventful. It is the charity auction, where people bid on certain things and the money goes to the charity. Stiles spends most of the time observing only, watching Derek, who is the auctioneer, since he can’t really compete against the wealth of these people.

After the auction, different speeches are made about the cause and the foundation the charity is funding. Halfway through the speech, Stiles begins to feel restless and tired of sitting in the same spot. He slips outside to the deck again, needing a breath of fresh air. The deck is empty now, all other guests are inside listening to the speeches.

He stands there, rocking back and forth on his dress shoes, feeling the chill seep past the seams of his suit. It cradles his skin, numbing it.

After about five minutes of silence under the bright moon and cold air, the deck door creaks  open.

He turns to find Jackson walking up to him.

“Jacks! What brings you out here?”

The blonde walks slowly and stands beside him, rolling his eyes. “You know why. Now why the hell are you out here, it’s cold as hell.” Stiles notices the jacket Jackson is holding in his arm before the blonde drapes it on him.

_Thats why it took you five minutes to follow me._

Stiles snuggles on the jacket, not saying anything. The scent of Jackson blurs the coldness for a while. Jackson looks away from him. “I was gonna fall asleep in there. And you know I can’t sit still for copious amount of hours unless I'm in the OR. And it’s not like I can actually compete with those rich people. Lydia donated like five thousand dollars buying things I bet she won’t even use. And plus, you didn’t have to follow me out here Officer Grumpy.”

“You’re right. Not unless I want to lose my job, no.”

Stiles lets out a laugh, digging his hands into his pocket. Stiles listens to the muffled sound of the microphone on the inside and the louder sound of crickets on the outside. He revels in how comforting it all is. His skin still buzzing from Derek’s kiss, his mind still restless from Derek’s words.

“Hey Jacks?”

“What, Stiles.” The blonde doesn’t look at him, but by the way his turns his body, Stiles can tell he is listening.

“I wanted to say sorry.”

“Wh-“

“Before you start yelling at me, let me finish. I’m sorry for being a jerk lately. And .. I’m sorry about everything.”

There is more he wants to say.

He wants to say Ian’s name.

He wants to mention the lying.

And the injuries.

But he is more of a coward than he is a hero.

Jackson looks at him now, but Stiles shifts his eyes to the floor. His fingers grab onto the phone in his pocket, gripping it tightly to distract his fidgeting fingers.

“For .. putting you through all of it. The whole shebang.”

Jackson clears his throat, scoffing once. “It’s whatever. You don’t need to apologize.”

Stiles knows this is the closest he’ll get to forgiveness. So he nods.

Before he can say anything further his phone vibrates.

Stiles pulls it out of his pocket to read a text from an unknown number.

**UNKNOWN 10:34 P.M.**

_I’m going to call you in fifteen seconds. Pick up the phone and pretend you know me. Or else._

Stiles furrows his eyebrows but can’t say anything before the phone rings.

The words UNKNOWN appear alongside his ringtone.

A part of him tells him to ignore the call. Maybe its spam. Or maybe a prank call.

(This part also is begging it to be spam. Or a prank call)

But his gut tells him its something else. Tells him that he needs to pick up this call. That the ‘or else’ in the text actually carries some weight.

His finger slides across the ‘answer’ screen.

He picks up.

“Hello, Stiles.”

The voice that greets him is feminine. But it sounds so chilling, so haunting. It sounds almost predatory. Like it knows all of Stiles’ darkest secrets.

“Scott, hey!” Stiles puts on a slight grin. His heart chills.

Jackson rolls his eyes and Stiles steps away one step.

“It’s good to finally hear your voice .. the first time I met you .. we didn’t really get the chance to talk.”

Stiles furrows his eyebrows, his mind sets off on the dozen questions in his mind.

It shouldn’t have taken him so long to figure it out, but shamefully, it does.

The person on the phone was _Kate_.

Kate Surgent was talking to him.

Stiles swallows, feeling his throat dry. “So how was the fire downtown? Everything okay?”

Kate lets out a laugh that absolutely freezes Stiles insides. The woman on the phone sounds so .. fearless. “Okay, Stiles. This is what I want you to do. I want you to back away from that cute police dog of yours and meet me out in the front. Alone.”

Stiles lets out a fake chuckle like he was just told a joke. Jackson glances over at him but Stiles can’t risk giving him any visual cues. She was watching them. From where, he didn’t know. His heart was pounding so quick he was almost convinced Kate could hear it through the phone.

“Oh yea? And what if I don’t come get you?” Stiles says in a joking manner.

“Oh sweetie, you don’t have much choice. I have a gun pointed right between those two pretty blue eyes of your friend. Now come to the front, or I blow his brains out. You have one minute.”

 “Sheesh, oh-okay Scott, I’ll be out front to get you.”

The line ends and Stiles swallows, feeling his breaths start to stagger. He sloppily tucks the phone in his pocket and looks at Jackson. His body starts to fidget, fingers shake in fear. His heart pounds so loud.

“Hey, Jacks, I’m gonna go get Scott and Isaac. Can you tell Allison?”

Jackson narrows his eyes.

_Believe me Jackson._

_Please, believe me._

The blonde rolls his eyes and nods.

“Whatever.”

Stiles takes off the jacket and puts it on Jackson.

“Thanks,” he says. “I wanted to say thanks .. too.”

The blonde walks away with a scoff.

 

 


	19. Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To my new readers, I am told to be notorious for my cliffhangers. Enjoy.

A minute after Jackson walks into the building, Stiles follows. He slips his arms into the jacket, letting the familiar scent of Jackson somewhat quell his racing heart.

When inside, Stiles see that the audience was still immersed in the speech being given. He doesn’t stop walking, he makes his way towards the entrance. Kate was watching him. There was no way she wasn’t. She wasn’t stupid.

He had to be quick, he had to get out before Jackson actually told Allison. There was no way he was going to let her get hurt as well. As he makes his way through the crowd, he doesn’t run into anyone he knows.

No Danny, no Lydia, no Laura, no Derek. Not even his dad.

In the short time it takes to exit the ballroom, he wonders if this is a good thing or a bad thing.

Good being that no one else has to get hurt. Bad being he’d have to handle this alone.

When he reaches the front entrance, he doesn’t fail to notice that the two officers who are supposed to be stationed here, are gone.

_Gone? Killed? Did she kill them?_

There’s little time to think before his phone rings again.

**UNKNOWN**

Surprisingly, Stiles isn’t as scared as he’d expected. His heart was pounding like he was running a marathon, yes, but his fingers weren’t shaking anymore. The thought of Jackson getting  _shot_ at was terrifying enough to make Stiles do anything, even if it was a bluff. But being out here, alone, it didn’t scare him enough. Better him than anyone else, right? It was reckless, and the entire damn police force was going to tell him that, but what else was he supposed to do? Call a bluff he didn’t know was real or not? Run in the venue, tell someone and risk it backfiring? Kate was watching him the entire time. And if he did something, she could kill someone, and he wasn’t couldn’t risk that. He wouldn’t risk that.

He tells himself this again and again.

The ring goes on twice before he swipes the answer screen.

“What do you want?” His voice has more confidence that actually was real. In reality, his chest was shaking with anxiety, he was on the verge of having a panic attack.

It is the same voice. Sweet and venomous. “Now, now, is that any way to talk to a lady?”

He looks across the lot, phone pressed against his face hard so that he didn’t drop it. There was nothing but cars, darkness, water, and trees. She could be anywhere.

“What. Do you want.” He says again. He couldn’t seem afraid. Not now. Fear would only encourage her.

The woman on the phone laughs. In a way, its crisp and sweet, in a way, it is a completely normal laugh. Somewhere in his head, he hears Derek saying how he fell in love with this laugh. Stiles brushes this thought away.

“I want what I’ve always wanted, Stiles. I want Derek.” Even in the way she speaks, her voice sounds so terrifying, so  _powerful._ Like she had no fears in the world, like she was in control of everything.

Like everything was going exactly her way.

Stiles feels his heart plummet.  _You can’t fucking have him_  is what he wants to say – is what he wants to scream. He wants to scream at her, tell her that she wasn’t allowed to hurt Derek anymore. That his injuries haven’t even healed yet. That his heart is still wounded. That his skin is still tender.

“You’re lying. You never wanted him.” His teeth grit against each other, jaw tight with anger. This woman, this  _monster_  wanted Derek? The same man she tortured, manipulated, abused, and nearly murdered? Did she really think that he would believe she wanted him?

“Au contraire, Stiles. I’ve always wanted him. Yes, maybe I wanted his secrets, maybe I wanted his family’s money, but that was just the technicalities of the plan. What I’ve always  _wanted_  was Derek S. Hale. When I was told he was my target? There was nothing stopping me from getting my hands on that hot bod. Those pretty little green eyes of his? And don’t get me started on his  _package._ It is to  _die_ for. _”_ She lets out a little mmh-mmh, like Derek was some .. some piece of meat.

“You’re sick.” He pictures a naked Derek, wrists bonded with chains. He pictures Kate touching his skin, kissing him, forcing herself onto him. He pictures Kate raping him, forcing him to feel something he no longer wanted. He feels his stomach lurch, bile threatening to come up his throat.

_This sick monster._

She laughs again, and it sounds so genuine. Her voice is like a noose slowly scraping against Stiles’ neck. Every word, every laugh, an inch tighter around his throat.

“I’m sick? What? Just because he actually wanted me first, just because he actually fell for me, I’m sick? And what does that make you, baby boy? Taking advantage of a poor and lonely man? What, were you helping him? Is that what you told yourself?”

When she says these things, that's when Stiles finally falters. That’s when he is finally afraid. That's when the fear finally blooms inside of him like some treasonous garden, threatening to drain everything out of him. His fingers fidget against the phone, his lower lip quivers.

_No. No. No._

_Don’t listen to her._

_She’s trying to get in your head._

“Yes. I  _was_ helping him. Because you  _tortured_ him.”

Kate lets out a soft laugh. “Oh, I like you. We’re going to have so much fun together.”

“What makes you think I’m going anywhere with you?”

A pause. It stretches out.

Finally, “Listen, Stiles. I want you to know that everything is going exactly the way I want it to. And I don’t just mean that I know what you’re thinking right now. You’re thinking if you can stall me long enough, you can try and get help. No, I don’t mean just that. I mean everything that has happened? It is exactly what I wanted. You think Derek just so happened to escape after I tortured him for weeks? No, honey. Everything that has happened so far, it has happened right in my palm. You are just an anomaly that has played his role.”

He doesn’t say anything after that. How could he? Her words echoed in his mind, he was trying his best to  _understand_ what she was talking about.

“Now listen up. I want you to go straight ahead and walk to the left. There is a black Lexus at the end of the row of cars. The key is in the ignition. I want you to get in and drive off the property.”

At this point, Stiles’ lungs are empty. Not swallowing enough air, his heart is pounding but it feels like nothing is circulating inside him. All he can feel is the vice grip that Kate seems to have on  _everything_ around him.

“And what if I don’t?”

She chuckles, like Stiles just told some kind of joke.

“You’re cute. I have someone on the inside of the building. Someone who is pretending they belong. You’ve met that person, actually. That person is going to shoot and kill someone if you don’t do exactly as I say.”

 _Liar._ He realizes that there are two choices he can make. One, being follow this psychotic woman’s orders, follow her into whatever she has planned for him. Do what she says, fall into her fingers. Two, being calling her on her bluff.

“You’re lyin-“

That's when a loud gunshot echoes though the entire venue.

Stiles jerks forward, turning around.

There is a silence.

Just for a second.

And then..

Screaming. Loud screaming.

By then, he is off his heels, running as fast as he can, running as fast as he ever has in his  _entire_ life. Because someone just  _died_ because of him.  _Him! He took an oath for fucks sake!_ He took a medical oath to protect any and every one. He took an oath to heal and save lives. He was a  _fucking doctor!_

The screaming continues, muted by walls and space. Stiles blocks it out, trying to run as fast as he can.

Stiles finds the black car exactly where Kate said it would be. He slams into it, hands gripping for the door, eyes too afraid to look back at the building. He yanks the door open and slams it behind him.

The phone smacks into his face, his breathing labored, his heart threatening to rip right out his chest.

“Hello? Hello!? I’m in the damn car!”

“Wonderful.” Stiles can’t even turn around before a gun is pressed to the back of his skull. An ice cold feeling bleeds up his veins. She was here. He fell right into her trap. “Now start it and drive out of the venue.”

His fingers find the key and he twists it in the ignition, fingers shaking against the metal.

The engine roars and he puts it into reverse.

By this time, people are running outside the main entrance, frantically finding their cars. Stiles looks only once before he zooms out.

“Was it Derek?” He says.

She chuckles. “Wouldn’t you hate that?”

“WAS IT DEREK!?” Stiles screams, feeling the gun press into his skull.

He can feel Kate smiling. “Oh sweetie, you have no idea what’s happening, do you? Why would I kill Derek? I’m not here for him.”

Stiles feels his blood run cold.

That’s when things fall into place in his head.

Kate was never after Derek.

_She was after Stiles._

 

 


	20. Prey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all my lovely veteran readers, I have almost re-uploaded the entire work. It took a frustrating week, but it's almost done. I'll have all old chapters up by Sunday. I'll be posting the new chapter on monday as compensation in addition to a post later that friday. 
> 
> Thanks to all my readers, old and new.

“Left.”

Stiles spins the steering wheel at the intersection, fingers gripping the grooves tightly. He lets out a quiet sigh, feeling a heavy weight in his chest. He turns his neck slightly only to feel the pressure of the gun prodding at the top of his spine.

The feeling of his life balancing on a thin line, it was overwhelming. Nothing like he’s ever felt before. Not like the feeling he gets in surgery room, not like the nervousness when he hears about a fire somewhere, not when he hears about some shooting downtown. Nothing like that. This was different. This rush of adrenaline has never touched his veins before, this instinct to try and stay alive. It was unlike any fear with Ian. Ian blurred him with stupid emotions.  _This_  fear .. this fear was pure. This fear that tells you  _you have to live._ It was all so deafening.

His head was already a hurricane of noise. A mess of calculating, blurred thoughts overlapping, none of which seem to make sense. Thoughts of trying to figure out what he was suppose to do. Crash the car? Was it even possible without hurting himself in the process? Roll out the door? Would he even survive that? Drive over speed limit? Hope a police officer pulls them over? Stall? Make the wrong turn? Turn back?

_What the hell am I supposed to do?_

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking, sweetie.” Stiles can feel the ghost of her breath against the tip of his ear, and he can’t help but clench his fingers on the steering wheel. Her voice was like a snake, slowly, slowly wrapping him. The rattle of her tongue, sweet and soft. The poison of her voice, slow and lethal. There was no  _escape._

“Make a right here.”

They’d driven maybe twenty or thirty minutes, taking routes Stiles was unfamiliar with. His nerves were already wrecked, he’d forgotten what turns they’d taken after the first ten minutes. It wasn’t like him, he’d normally remember every single detail. His dad, hell  _Jackson_  taught him better, but he just couldn’t focus. Not with the teeth of the gun stabbing at his neck.

They pull up to a street that has no name, somewhere in a neighborhood of empty warehouses. He parks the car in front of the entrance of some abandoned train station that looked like it hadn’t been touched for years.

“Lovely place you got here.”

“Get out the car.”

“Yea, I think I’ll pass.”

Kate scoffs. “You know, you act like you have a choice in this situation. Get out or I’ll have you dragged out.”

“Yea? By who-“

The door swings open and strong arms wrap around his body. He tries to squirm out of the person’s grip, but the hands grab on his stomach, pulling him out.

He gets tossed haphazardly onto the concrete, his face and hands scraping against it. His cheek slams into the ground, a slow ache fills his face. He looks up to see two burly men in black. Their builds alone were enough to intimidate Stiles, they were like  _bears_. Their facial expressions were unwavering, eyes empty. One of them opened the door for Kate.  _Typical._

He feels the sting of scrapes on his palms and cheek. He sits up. “Can’t say I’d come back. The hospitality here sucks.”

Kate gets out the car and tips up her chin slightly, like she is watching him. Predator and prey.

“Take him.” The two men walk forward and Stiles has barely any time to even stand up before they are hauling him, dragging him to where Kate was walking. Struggling was ineffective.

She leads them into one of the train cars, the lights dim and occasionally flicker. Trash litters the floors, dust curtain the ripped seats, a few windows were shattered. No one was coming down here anytime soon.

They walk to the end and Stiles feels his blood run cold.

Sitting against the wall is a metal chair. Under it,  _chains._

“Wa-wait.” He starts to struggle but the men have hands of steel, barely wavering as he squirms.

Kate stops and turns around.

“Chain him.”

The men follow her orders and toss him into the wall, his back colliding against the metal frame of the car. He tries to struggle, but one pulls him and holds him down onto the chair, while the other pulls his arms behind him and chain him.He kicks up into the crotch of one guy but then a fist comes smashing into his jaw, settling stars in the corner of his eyes. Pain explodes in his mouth. Blood.

His two legs are chained to the front legs of the chair. The men back off when he is binded.

 “What do you want from me.” He says, spitting blood onto the floor, feeling his body rush in adrenaline.

Kate smiles. “I want you to sit here and look pretty until I’m ready to make you ugly.”

Stiles grits his teeth and narrows his eyes. “You’re not getting away with this.”

White teeth appear as her lip stretches up. Amusement in her silver eyes. “Oh honey, I already have.” She grins, crossing her arms in amusement. “Gag him please, gentlemen.” The two men close in on him again, he attempts to struggle only to feel the chains bite into his skin. They force the cloth in his mouth, tying it almost painfully tight. He pulls his head out of their hands.

Kate waves them off with her hand and they disappear out of the car. She walks forward, taking slow steps. The click of her heels echo, the sound feels so sharp against Stiles’ ears.

When her face is an inch away, he feels her hand gently caress his neck. Her voice is soft, smooth. “Oh Stiles, I wish you weren’t the one who found Derek. It’s unfortunate, really.” Her hand slides down, down, down.

Her touch feels so poisonous, like it’s draining any warmth from his skin.

He tries to resist, but the chains scrape into his wrists.

Her eyes fall on him, the silver and grey are freezing, almost haunting. Her hands fall past his chest, past his stomach, settling on his waist. Her breath is soft, smells like flowers. How something so fresh can emanate from someone so toxic.

Her fingers slip into his pockets, pulling out a phone.

She stands up and turns on the phone.

“Oh, isn't this interesting! Fifteen texts, nine missed calls, two voicemails. Let’s see what they say, shall we?” She grins and Stiles shivers.

“Jackson.” She looks up at him. “That must be the cute police dog of yours.” She ‘hmms’ before reading some of them. “'Where are you?' 'It’s been ten minutes.' 'Stilinski, where are you?' 'I swear to god, if you don’t pick up the phone right now.' 'Pick up the phone!' 'You better fucking be okay.'” She scoffs before looking up at Stiles. “Hell, this kid is really in love with you, huh?”

Stiles furrows his eyebrows. _  
_

She gives him a deadpan before resuming her read. “Lydia. 'Where are you? Jackson’s freaking out.' Allison. 'Scott just called me, he said he couldn’t make it. Where are you Stiles?'” She rolls her eyes. “Jackson _again_. 'You fucking lied to me!' 'Where the hell are you Stiles!'”

Kate makes an amused sound as she scrolls down. “Huh. This must be when you decided to get smart and try my patience.  _Oh_ here comes the good stuff.” She pouts and reads it. “Derek. 'Stiles, Where are you?' 'Stiles, pick up the phone.' 'Stiles, tell me you’re okay.' 'Where are you?!' 'Stiles, please.' 'Please.' 'Please be okay.'”

She looks at Stiles, something dangerous in her eyes. “I must have messed him up real bad for him to go for you. It's pathetic. Begging and whining. He sounds like a kicked mutt. Must’ve killed a few brain cells when I shocked him.”

That’s when Stiles feels his chest explode. Explode in anger. Anger at her words. He starts to thrust his body, fighting the chains that he knows won’t budge. He tries to scream but the gag muffles any sound. His head pounds, teeth biting down as the cloth rubs into the corners of his mouth. 

Images of Derek being hurt, over and over. They burn in his head.

Kate genuinely  _smiles_. She lifts her leg, smoothly and easily. She presses it slowly into his chest, digs her heel right between the space of two ribs. The sharp pressure causes him to flail, scream into the gag. She releases and clicks her tongue. “Now now, calm down. We haven’t even gotten to the voicemails yet.” 

She puts her foot back down and Stiles feels a sharp burn in his chest.

She swipes a few times before the sound comes up.

He recognizes the voice immediately.

“Stiles? Stiles!” He can hear the faint sound of police sirens in the back. “Where are you son? Stiles, call me when you get this.” An officer in the background, sounds like Parrish, says something to his dad. His dad replies with something before returning to the voicemail. “Call me, Stiles. Love you.”

Kate frowns. “Well, that wasn’t as exciting as I’d hope it would be.”

She swipes her fingers again, and soon, the sound of Derek echoes in the train car.

“Stiles, where are you? Please, be okay. God, I’m so fucking sorry. I should’ve been more careful. Please be okay. I need you here. You keep me whole, remember? Sti-”

Kate drops the phone onto the ground, slamming her heel into the screen.

Once, twice.

Crack, crack.

_There goes GPS tracking._

She looks up at him, something different in her eyes. Something like hatred, rage. Something carnal.

 “You know, I wasn’t going to hurt you too bad.” She walks slowly up to him, the sway of her hips, the click of her feet. Heel toe, heel toe, heel toe. A dance. Something deadly. She leans in front of him, face to face.

“But now I know how ‘important’ you are to him .. as long as I have you, I get whatever I want from him. You are his Achilles heel, Stiles. You are his weakness. You are the loose thread in his spine. You are his flaw. You are the pawn on my chessboard. You have played your role. Now let’s see how whole you keep him after I tear you apart.” She grins. But this time, there is something different about it. No longer playful, no longer teasing.

This was pure excitement.

Kate was someone who got what she wanted.

She steps back and stands straight.

“Gentlemen!” Footsteps follow and the two men enter. “Let’s have some fun!”

 

 


	21. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference to past domestic and sexual abuse in this chap!

One.

Hard, right in his jaw, pain burning across his cheek.

Two.

Into the other jaw. Pain like lightning. He spits blood in the man’s face.

Three.

This one is harder. His cheek. The pain makes black spots appear in his eyes.

Four.

He can feel his lip split, blood staining his chin.

Five.

Another to his cheek. The bruise bursts in pain, his head starts to pound wildly.

Six.

Things start to slow down. The pain a constant ache in his face.

Seven.

A blow to his stomach.

Eight. Nine. Ten.

Chest, stomach, side.

Eleven. Twelve.

The hits could be worse.

Thirteen.

He’s been through worse.

Fourteen.

Blackness.

Two perfectly manicured fingers curl around his chin, lifting his face up. Silver eyes stare at him. Red lips stretching around white teeth.  _Smile._

“Where’s that smart mouth of yours now, kid?”

His eyes drift, he tries to keep them open. Black spots – stars? – flutter across his vision. His breathing is labored, the adrenaline taking every ounce of energy out of him. The pain is sharp, everytime he breaths. Tears fall down his face, his head lolls loosely on his neck.

He’s been through worse.

“Fuck. You.”

She frowns, sucking her teeth. She backs away and stands up tall, crossing her arms.

“You don’t know when to give up, do ya kid?”

He says nothing.

“Hmm. Maybe I’ll break you too.” She giggles. “Just like I did Derek.”

The mention of Derek’s name jerks Stiles forward. Energy rushes through his body, he flails, jerking out of his seat. The chains cut into his wrists, he pulls but the links burn into his chest, the metal is too strong but he doesn’t care. Not when she laughs at Derek’s pain.

“Don’t fucking talk about him you bitch.” He says it through clenched teeth.

She tilts her head to the side slightly, pouting. “Oh? And why not? Does it make you angry, Stiles?” She slowly steps towards him again, her heel echoes in the train car. Stiles understands that she is much more than this. Much more than a poisonous smile and suffocating eyes. Everything about her is terrifying.

“Does it make you angry? How easily I tricked him? The way I told him to trust me?” Step, step. “The way I told him that I loved him?” Step, step.

“Stop.”

Whispers of  _“trust me Stiles. I love you, Stiles. Just trust me.”_ echo in his head.

She continues to advance, taking the smallest of steps, her eyes watching him. Like she knows everything about him. Like she knows of his nightmares. Like she knows how to take him apart, bone by bone, piece by piece.

“I chained him up, nice and tight. Told him we were going to have some fun.” She smiles.

“Stop it.”

She leans in, slowly.

“Whispered in his ear. Don’t you trust me baby?”

Stiles bites his lips hard enough to taste blood. “Stop.”

She leans in closer. “It only took one night in bed with me. He moaned my name and I knew I had him.”

“Stop it.” He says again, swallowing down trembles.

“I took him without a fight.” Her lips hover over Stiles’ ear. “And then I tore. Him. Apart.”

“STOP IT!”

She giggles.  _Giggles._ “Oh and he screamed.” She whispers. “He screamed my name. Begging me to stop, Stiles. Told me he loved me.”

Whisper in his head. ‘ _I love you, Stiles. Don’t you love me?’_

Fear begins to manifest inside of his chest. Cold, cold fear. His scars begin to tingle. His fingers shake.

He closes his eyes, trying to block her out. Her voice dug deep under his skin. There was no escape.

Her lips come closer to the spot behind his ear, she whispers so quietly, but the words scream in his head.“And when I stopped? When his body was all sweaty and tight? Oh, I didn’t know whether to kill it or lick it. I guess I did both.”

His eyes open and he lunges forward again, feeling rage take over his body. He fights against the restraints, ignoring the sharp pains. He struggles and struggles until his body stops, collapsing under the chains. Quiet shivers run through him.

Kate backs away, her goal accomplished. She smiles.

She weakened his body. She weakened his mind.

Kate got what she wanted.

“Huh. I expected more of a challenge. Shame. Derek was funner. Gag him.”

One of the men places the gag back on his mouth. He doesn’t fight it.

Stiles shakes, feeling the anger vibrate inside of him. He wanted nothing more than to hurt this woman. He saved lives for a living but this woman was nothing but evil. She hurt Derek. Over and over. And now she hurt him.

Like a disease. A  _cancer_.

She takes out a burner phone, flipping it open.

Her fingers dial a number without looking at the buttons. She presses the speaker button.

“Hello? Der-bear?”

 

* * *

 

 

“K-Kate?” A pause. As if Derek had to put himself together. “Where is Stiles. Where the hell is Sti-“

Hearing Derek’s voice felt like solace. Like everything was okay.

Kate grins.

“Calm down, Der.”

Images of Derek’s face wincing the first time Stiles called him ‘Der’ flash in his head.

Kate watches him. “The boy is right here.”

“If you fucking touch him-“

“Oh Derek. Don’t act like you have any power in this situation. And I assume you’re at the police station. Don’t bother. You can’t track me.”

A silence.

“What do you want. The company?”

“No. I don’t want that anymore. Too much trouble. I want money. Ten million dollars. In cash.”

“What?”

“Meet me at our place. Come alone, you know what will happen if you don’t.”

“Kate-“

“Ten million dollars, Derek. You and I both know you have it.”

She lifts the phone up and snaps a picture of Stiles. A few clicks on it and she brings the phone back up.

“Did you get my message?”

A silence. And then,

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?”

Stiles had never heard Derek yell like that before.

Kate smiles. There is a brief flash of annoyance in her eyes. She gulps once. “I think you know what I’m capable of Der. Unless you want that to happen to Stiles, I suggest you come with the money. Alone.”

Stiles can hear the strain of Derek’s voice. “How will I know?”

“You won’t.”

“Kate. Don’t do this.” His voice cracks. “Don’t do this.”

She smiles, a thin smile. Her eyes no longer amused. She walks up to Stiles, takes off the gag.

Stiles watches her, watches the way her eyes darken.

“Oh Derek.” Stiles watches her, watches the way she dips her hands into her pocket. Watches the way her fingers bring out a gleaming pocket knife. Watches the way she holds it up to his neck. Her eyes shine in disappointment. The blade traces his artery. Stiles knows he has only a few minutes of life if she cuts that artery. He knows too well.

“I liked you, you know that? You were a cute little toy.”

A muffled sound on the phone and Derek speaks up. “Fine. Take me instead. Take  _me_ Kate. Me and you let Stiles go.”

Stiles immediately is jerking in his chair.

“NO! DEREK, I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU-“

Kate grins, bringing the knife a little harder into his neck. He silences, chest shaky.

She clicks her tongue a couple of times.

“Stiles?  _Stiles!_  I’m so sorry-“

Kate’s eyes spark and she brings the knife and plunges it into Stiles’ thigh.

A piercing scream leaves his throat as the pain tears through his body.

Kate pulls the knife back and Stiles can feel the blood beginning to seep out of his leg. 

“STILES! STILES!”

“Our place. Alone. Bring the money. You have one hour.”

She closes the phone, throws it on the floor, and slams her heel into it.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles looks down at his thigh. The pants are a deep red. He sees blood every day, but feeling his own blood dripping slowly out of his body ..

“Don’t worry. You won’t bleed out. That wouldn’t be fun.” Kate leans against one of the poles, her legs crossed, face soft as if nothing was happening.

His body is weak, limbs hanging limp, lids tired, head loose and resting against the train wall. He swallows. “Why did you let him go?”

Kate looks at him, eyes watching. She purses her lips, maybe deciding whether or not she wanted to tell him.

“He wasn’t talking. Gave me his personal funds, but none of his family’s. I was going to give up, honestly. Settle with that. But then .. I saw a better opportunity.” She smiles. “You.”

“How .. could you be sure.”

She tilts her head. “I can’t say I was. But if not you, then someone else would have taken the role.”

Stiles feels his chest tighten. So much hatred inside of him.

He can’t help but think if not him, then maybe Laura .. or Cora, some how, some way, Kate was going to hurt and she was going to destroy.

At least it was Stiles and not someone else.

“You know what I can’t figure out though?” She gets off the pole and stands up straight, crossing her arms.

He doesn’t grace her with a reply. She continues anyway.

“Why he chose  _you.”_  She paces in a steady line. “Poor, broken, broken Stiles.”

Chills run across his skin.  _She knows_

“Admitted into the hospital on three separate occasions. Once for a broken arm. Once for a fractured collar bone. And once for multiple injuries and a concussion related to a severe domestic beating.”

His breath picks up, lungs clawing for air.

“Have you shown him? Shown him how broken you are?”

Stiles looks away, biting his lower lip, fingers gripping into his palm. He pulls against the chains to feel the pain cut into his wrists.

“Scared he’s gonna leave you?”

_I won’t let you break me._

“Scared he’ll stop caring for you?”

_I won’t let you break me._

“Huh. Well I guess that doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”

_I won’t let you break me._

_I won’t let you break me._

_I won’t._

_I won’t._


	22. Sacrifices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference to past domestic abuse .... among other things

He can’t walk. His limbs feel entirely useless, each step sends shockwaves of pain through his body. It was like his head was short circuiting with each movement, pain a torrential current, consuming him. Everything hurt, white pain – he couldn’t even think properly, let alone struggle against the two men dragging him.

It seemed the hour was up. And Stiles couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. The only thing that was running through his mind was Derek.  _Derek_ who was everything to him. As the two thugs drag him outside, throwing him on his knees, all he can think about is Derek.

About how he didn’t deserve any of this. How he didn’t deserve to be so hurt, so scarred. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t  _fair._ Stiles keeps going back to the first the night. Derek, laying in a puddle of moonlight and his own blood. His breathing like a thread, chest rising and falling like the waves of a broken ocean. The injuries on Stiles body but he can’t help but think that Derek’s were so much worse. How Derek had to suffer weeks of torture, torture by someone he thought he loved.

It just wasn’t fair. How someone so golden and strong like Derek was reduced to shambles. How someone so scarred was still a million times stronger than Stiles. How someone so wounded ended up  _saving_ Stiles.

Stiles. Poor, poor, broken Stiles. Kate was right. He was broken in too many ways.

Ian destroyed him. Used him. Sucked every ounce of life out of him. Stiles loved him.  _Loved_ him. He thought he deserved it. Deserved the punches and kicks. Deserved the sloppy, drunken kisses, the rough, bruising sex he thought was ‘love’. Deserved the slaps, the choking, he thought he deserved them all. He thought it came with the territory of love. He did everything Ian told him to do. Gave him whatever it was. Whether it was sex or a punching bag. It was foolish. Dumb. Months of broken bones, hidden bruises, torn skin. He was a broken, broken man.

Even after Ian was locked up, even after Stiles went through therapy, there was always that voice in the back of his head. A little remnant that Ian left behind. A voice that always reminded him of who he was. Just a pile of broken pieces.

It was difficult to hold onto the days that passed after that. Each day was just a nothingness. His friends and father did what they could, but he was dysfunctional.

But then .. then Derek came into his life. Someone who gave him purpose again. Someone who was gentle and kind, pure and strong. He was everything Stiles needed. He was stability. He was enough.  _He was enough_. He invigorated something inside of Stiles that was long ago silenced. He spilled color in the black and white lines that made up Stiles’ life.

He was everything Stiles needed. Broken and still more whole than Stiles could ever be.

It wasn’t right. For Derek to be hurt again. It caused a pain greater than anything on his body, thinking about Derek being hurt again. He just didn’t deserved it. He was better now, stronger. He was recovered. He put himself back together and then put Stiles back together. He didn’t deserve to be disassembled again. Not by Kate. And not by Stiles.

And in that moment, as the carlights of a Camaro drove toward them, Stiles never wanted anything more than to replace Derek.

The door slams, engine still running. Derek walks quickly out of the car and towards them. His eyes dark, face loosening when he sees Stiles. A flicker of pain streaks across his expression.

Kate raises her hand, turning off the safety of the gun. She points it at Derek and he’s forced to stop his advance. His looks at Stiles again before turning up to Kate, his face hardening.

“Uh uh uh. Stop there.”

Stiles watches Derek. There was no greater desire than to just run towards him, touch him, feel his warmth, feel his breath, feel his stubble, feel the strength in his arms. Stiles wanted to feel  _whole_ again. He wanted to bury his face in that chest, he wanted to crumble in arms that he knew would hold him together. He wanted to kiss those lips, proved how much he loved Derek. And he did. Love Derek. It was the scariest thing to admit to himself, but there was no fear when it came to Derek. Stiles loved him and he wanted to do nothing  _but_ love him.

It was only a couple of feet separating them. But it felt like a galaxy.

“The money?”

Derek grimaces, placing the duffel bag on the floor in front of him. The lights of the camaro outline Derek’s body, his shadow blanketing Stiles.

“Let him go, Kate.”

Kate scoffs. “You’re willing to throw away everything for him?”

Derek doesn’t waver. “Yes.”

“Why?” She asks, arm barely moving in the slightest.

Derek doesn’t say anything.

Silence.

Stiles can hear Kate inhale sharply through her nose. “WHY DEREK!?”

“Why the hell does it matter! Just let him go. You have the money. You have me.”

The rest happens quickly, too too quickly.

Kate lowers her arms and digs the gun into Stiles’ shoulder. She presses so hard Stiles can feel it bruise into his bone.

Derek jerks forward but stops, his eyes finally breaking into emotion. A fear sweeps across his face and Stiles hates the look on him. His arms reach outwards as if he wants to do something but he know he can’t.

“Kate-“

“TELL ME!” She screams it, loud, the gun digging harder into him.

“Because I love him! I love him!”

Stiles can feel the tears begin to trickle down his face.

The silence drags on, Derek swallows.

Stiles can’t feel anything. The words repeat in his head over and over again. He wants nothing more than to scream it back at him. Scream it before he doesn’t get the chance.

_Because I love him! I love him._

_Because I love him! I love him._

_Because I love him! I love him._

_Because I love him! I love him._

_Because I love him! I love him._

“ _Please_ Kate.” Hearing Derek beg – beg for Stiles. It made him sick. Sick of himself. Sick that he has to ruin everything around him. Ruin anyone who cares about him.

Kate releases the pressure, standing up straight. Stiles slumps, breathing out heavily.

A henchmen picks him up, dragging him towards Derek.

Derek walks towards him, his eyes the same piercing green as the first night.

Stiles doesn’t want this to be the last time he ever sees this color, this color that has saved him so many times.

They reach each other and a gentle hand cradles Stiles’ cheeks. It’s shaky, just like Derek’s eyes. Roaming over Stiles face, like he’s trying to memorize it one last time. Stiles can’t do anything, he has nothing left, he can only watch the way Derek seems to fall apart.

Derek licks his lips before whispering. “I love you, Stiles.”

Stiles can’t say anything before the henchman pulls him away, tossing him onto his knees again. Stiles looks up to see the other man take a hold of Derek’s arm, walking him to Kate. The other man grabs the duffel.

He hates himself for being so weak. For not being able to do  _anything._ And he hates watching Derek being led back to Kate, back to the woman who has hurt him so much. All because of Stiles.

When Derek is besides Kate, he looks at Stiles, face unreadable. Steeled. Expressionless.

Kate turns to him, reaches up her fingers. Stiles feels his insides burn away, no pain greater than this. She places her finger on Derek’s cheek, pushing his head so that it looks at her. She smiles. Her finger starting at his cheekbone and trailing down his face. Down his chin, down his neck, onto his collar. Derek does nothing but look at her.

She leans in, leans in so slowly, so so slowly. Her lips curl, finger staying steady at that same spot. She leans in and kisses him. Once. Twice. Lips capturing Derek’s. He opens his mouth and Kate’s tongue enters.

It is unbearable.  _Impossible._ Stiles wants to  _die_  rather than see this.His fists clenched so tightly blood runs from his palms. He wants to look away but he  _can’t._ He wants to cry and fight but he _can’t._ All he can do is watch Derek stand there, expressionless, like a statue.

Kate pulls back and frowns at him.

“What’s wrong baby?” She says to him. Stiles wants to vomit right then and there. She frowns further when Derek doesn’t say anything.

“What’s wrong, baby?” She repeats it again, finger pulling away from his skin. He watches her every move.

Kate steps back a couple of times, steps back slowly. Her body turns in the slightest of angles.

Step.

Step.

Step.

Step.

Her arm raises like lightning.

Her guns points.

Her gun shoots.

It is loud.

So, so loud.

Smoke from the barrel.

The sound of the round as it drops on the floor.

Clink, clink.

Everything is so, so loud.

So, so loud.

But .. also quiet.

So, so quiet.

She shot the gun.

Stiles looks over at Derek.

But the man .. is still standing.

And then .. then Stiles looks down at his stomach.

Blood. So much blood.

After that, three gunshots.

One after the other after the other.

Thud. Thud.

The last thing he sees is Kate collapsing, Peter holding a gun to her chest.

After that ..

Darkness.

 

 


	23. Repercussions

Kate was the same. And Derek hated himself for being able to remember it. She tasted the same. Her lips, the same texture. Same lipstick taste, the one he bought her so long ago. He hated himself more for once loving it. He’d kissed her so many times and this felt no different. It was like a dance he knew all the steps to. It was always the same. Kiss once. Twice. And he was opening his mouth because he knew what would come next.

He did it because Stiles was a few feet away, on his knees, bleeding and bruised.

It fucking  _hurt._ Hurt more than anything to see Stiles like that. Stiles’ pale, milky way skin bruised and tainted with cuts and purple spots. He hated himself. Because this was his fault. He did this to Stiles. He let Kate take Stiles. He let Kate hurt Stiles. He let Kate hurt the man who saved him, the man who he grew to love more than anything he could imagine.

This man, who fixed every broken part inside of Derek, this man who found every flaw beautiful. It was too much, seeing the person he fell for, broken like that.

He hated himself for it.

Letting Kate touch him. Hurt him. He hated it. And he would rather go through years of torture rather than let Stiles deal with it for a single second. It wasn’t right.

So if Kate would let Stiles go, he’d open his mouth for her taste. Her poisonous, poisonous taste.

Kate pulls back and frowns at him.

“What’s wrong baby?” She says. And it sounds so familiar. She’s said it before and Derek knows it. He remembers her saying it.

“What’s wrong baby?” She repeats. His throat is dry, he wants to say something but what is he suppose to say?

She steps away, the finger on his collar leaves. Slow, slow steps. Echo of her heels against the asphalt. When something catches fire in her eyes, he knows somethings wrong. He knows he’s done something wrong. He’s seen that look too many times not to know. There is something almost terrifying in the way it sparks. On the way it threatens to consume him in wildfire. She is dangerous and he knows it far too well.

When she raises her arm, Derek doesn’t flinch.

It’s shameful how ready he is for this bullet. Not in the way that he’s prepared to die, but in the way that he no longer wants to fear this woman.

So when she raises it, he doesn’t hold his breath.

He doesn’t flinch.

He doesn’t close his eyes.

He isn’t scared.

Not until she swings her arm.

Not until she points it at Stiles.

Not until she pushes the trigger.

Not until the sound rips the air.

Not until the round clinks on the floor.

Not until he turns and sees Stiles,  _his_   _Stiles,_ looking down at his stomach. Blood.  _Blood. She shot him._

She shot him.

_His Stiles._

The fear is almost suffocating – it  _is_ suffocating. He can’t breathe – everything moves so slowly but so fast. It  _hurts._ Sharper than anything he’s ever felt and it feels like so many things inside of him break all at once. Everything that Stiles has ever graced with his touch, it all feels so distant. The goofy laugh and constellation of moles on his beautiful skin, it all feels so distant.

In that moment, he’s never been so afraid.

A second passes and three more gunshots fire.

Somehow, these don’t sound as loud.

Derek whips his head to Kate only to see her falling to the floor, blood flowing out of her chest. Peter stands there, gun held almost delicately in his hand. The two thugs also on the floor. Clean shots. Peter pulls out his phone and Derek is already running.

Running the few feet that feel like miles, miles away from him. He skids on his knees, they tear and he doesn’t care because Stiles is bleeding in his arms, eyes barely open, blood rushing out in impossible amounts.

It all happens so fast but feels so  _slow._ He’s trembling, he’s shaking, he knows he’s shaking. His whole body, every bone cold, every ounce of warmth gone. Only Stiles, in his arms, staying perfectly still. And maybe there are tears rolling down Derek’s cheeks, he can’t tell because Stiles is looking up at him and smiling.  _Smiling._ There isn’t a single tear in Stiles’ eyes and Derek hates himself for being so weak  _again._ He holds Stiles up to his chest, not knowing what to do.

“Stiles. Stiles. Please, please, please. Stiles please stay with me.” His voice is thin and maybe he forgets to breath. He’s too afraid it’ll hurt Stiles, it’ll do something that’ll take him away. “Please, Stiles, please stay with me.”

Stiles grins lazily, his eyes have everything Derek is afraid of in them. Hazy, glossed, darkening.

“Der.” His voice is so quiet – soft.

“Stiles, I’m here.” He lowers his head so that they breathe the same air just for a little longer.

Stiles swallows. “Don’t. Fucking kiss. Anyone else. Until I’m back.”

Derek smiles, seeing his own tears drop down on Stiles’ face. He brushes them away with shaky fingers and lets out a broken chuckle. “Okay, Stiles. Okay. I promise. I promise. I promise.” He sounds like a broken record but Stiles only grins wider.

“I. I. I love-“

“Shh, shh. Stop. Don’t talk. Just. Just breathe Stiles. Please. Please, just breathe.”

Red and blue start flashing and sirens get louder.

“But-“

“Tell me when you wake up again. Tell me then. Okay? Okay Stiles?”

The grin doesn’t disappear. It is the same, lazy one Derek fell in love with.

“Okay, Der.”

Derek can’t hear anything besides Stiles quiet breathing. The echo of gunshots still in his head. The sound of Stiles’ gorgeous voice. The sound of the rounds falling on the floor. The soft sigh before Stiles closes his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Isaac and Scott are the first ones to come to the hospital. They find Derek sitting on a waiting bench, hunched over and ghostly white.

He looks up at them as they run in. Not quick, not desperate, but more like they are afraid they’ll find their best friend gone. They both look shaken. There is a smoky tinge to Isaac’s hair and roughly cleaned smudges on Scott’s skin. Isaac looks at all the blood on Derek’s clothes and then stands still, staring at the door that separates the surgery wing and the waiting room. Scott jerks over to Derek with a deeply worried expression.

“How – what – what happened?”

Derek swallows. ‘ _I happened’_ is what he wants to say. It hurts to even repeat what really happened. “He – he has a gunshot wound. Stab wound. I – I don’t know. We just got here and – I – I don’t. They won’t tell me – I.” Scott places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes. It honestly steels him from breaking.

He looks up and Scott wears the same expression. Still worried, but a glimmer of hope in his amber eyes. Almost like he knows Stiles will survive. “Stiles – Stiles will make it. He’s a fighter. That idiot wouldn’t let a stupid bullet kill him. Everyone knows him here. They’ll help him. And – and Lydia’s on he way. She’ll know what to do.”

The hospital door opens and click clack of heels almost sends Derek off of his feet fists clenched. But he looks up to see Allison and Lydia, both still in their dresses, running up to them.

This is the first time he’s ever seen Lydia shaken. Mascara – or eyeliner – smudged on her lower lid, hair let down in waves of red. Her eyes are wide and glossed, hands white from gripping her dress. Allison is the polar opposite of Lydia – her eyes steeled, facial expression in tact. Determined.

Lydia walks over to the table and catches a nurse.

“Rose. What is Dr. Stilinski’s condition?”

The nurse swallows. “Dr. Martin. I haven’t heard anything. I-“

“Stop. Get my surgical scrubs and coat. Now.”

The nurse nods and skitters off.

Allison places a hand on her shoulder. “You shouldn’t be in there.”

Lydia shakes her head once. “No – I’m okay. I need to go. I’ll update you guys as soon as I can.” And with that, she ties her hair up in a bun and looks like a completely new person. She walks through the doors and Derek can only watch her go and save the man of his life.

Scott grabs Allison into a hug, hand roaming into her hair. Something inside Derek aches as he watches the two.

“He’ll be okay,” Allison says. “He’ll be okay.”

Scott nods into her neck and then pulls away, turning to Isaac, who has remained in the same position this entire time.

“’Zac?”

The blonde turns to look at them, eyes almost empty.

“I – I’m going to go to his loft. Maybe – Maybe get a few things for when he wakes up.” He looks over at Derek.

He looks down for a second, then at the surgical wing doors – and then he turns, leaving.

Allison reaches out but Scott stops her.

“Let him go. He’ll be okay.” Allison nods once, but still looks unsure. Scott turns to Derek again. “I have some of Stiles’ spare clothes in my trunk. Let’s get you out of those.”

Derek almost immediately declines. The idea of leaving Stiles – even if its just to go to the parking lot – sounds impossible. What if he woke up? What if –

“Allison will be here. My car’s right outside. Don’t worry.”

It takes Derek a good thirty seconds before he replies.

But he nods – once. And walks quickly outside so that he doesn’t turn back.

 

* * *

 

He spends more time than necessary in the bathroom. Blood colored water still slipping down the sink drain. The only traces of Stiles left – washing down the sink. His breathing was normal, but his hands were still trembling just slightly. He splashes water on his face again, something preventing him from looking in the mirror at himself.

Stiles clothes – a pair of sweats and a striped sweater – are a little dose of home for Derek. The smell almost settles every tsunami inside of his chest. He dips his nose in the sweater and takes in the scent, it smells like Sunday morning of Derek’s nose on Stiles’ neck. It feels perfect and aching at the same time. He misses Stiles so much it’s almost insane.

Derek wipes off his face with a paper towel and lets out a final heavy sigh.

He walks towards the bathroom door and upon opening it – he hears someone shout ’Jackson’ loudly.

A second later and his back is being shoved against the bathroom wall. A blur of blonde hair and glacier eyes. A fist wrapped around the collar of his shirt, another raised in front of his face.

“You.”

Jackson. His eyes glossed, hair disheveled like he’d run his hands through it a hundred times.

Derek doesn’t resist, maybe because he doesn’t have the ability to, or maybe because he deserves this.

“You – this, this is your fault.” His voice is almost broken, but filled with something other than anger. Fear, maybe. It’s in the blonde’s eyes too. He is afraid. Enough so that it burns wild in his blue eyes.

Derek doesn’t say anything.

How could he?

“I was so careful – so fucking careful. He told me to leave him. And I – I  _believed_ him. He was protecting me. Fucking protecting me! That’s my fucking job! I’m suppose to –  _I’m_ suppose to protect him! But I couldn’t! I couldn’t do it! I just – I was suppose to protect him! Never let him get hurt again! He’s MY responsibility. He’s MY Stiles! And – and. I – I was suppose to protect him.”

At this point there are tears in his eyes and his fists have loosened, letting Derek go. He was never angry at Derek. He was angry at himself.

The bathroom door swings open and Danny walks towards Jackson. The blonde looks up, wipes his eyes and storms off, shrugging off Danny’s hand.

Danny turns to Derek. “Sorry. He’s – I guess he’s been through this too many times. Well, I guess we all have. You okay?”

Derek nods. “Yea. Yea I’m okay.”

Danny begins to turn but Derek stops him.

“Wait – what do you mean too many times?”

Danny looks at him with even sadder eyes than before. Still, somewhere in them, there is also hope.

“I think Jackson should be the one to explain.”

Derek hums in agreement and watches the officer walk out the door.

A second passes and the door is swinging open again.

“Danny-?”

“Lydia – Lydia has an update.”

Derek is off his feet, fear creeping back up his veins again.

_Please be okay._

_Please be okay._

_Please be okay._

 

 


	24. Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The last chapter I had to reupload. Tomorrow I will be posting new chapter. I just want to say thank you to everyone who has supported me through this week. I lost the kudos and kind words everyone provided me but thats fine :). As long as there is someone who wants to read, I will write. Thank you so much everyone!!

“ _What?_ ”

Chief Stilinski looked at Lydia with eyes that were almost hollowed. But there was an angle to them – like he’d gone through this before, like this was some nightmare he was reliving. Derek could barely swallow down the torrents of emotion in his throat. The things Lydia was saying – it sounded almost impossible.

The initial update – the one Lydia gave after Derek had changed out of his bloodied clothes, it was just a diagnostic of Stiles’ injuries. The gunshot wound hadn’t ruptured anything important, but Lydia said there was a lot of blood loss. Coupled with the stab wound, it was almost too much blood to lose. Lydia couldn’t say much, and she warned us that she wouldn’t be coming out for a long time – the surgery was going to take a couple of hours at least.

Derek spent those hours on the edge of his seat. Elbows on his knees, hands locked together, lips pressed tightly against them. In his head, two things kept replaying. One being the constant circulation of memories. Stiles’ eyes, warm brown and always full of sunshine. Stiles’ skin, winter kissed – those moles of his (Derek memorized them from the mornings he woke up before Stiles, his eyes following the sunrays as they traced Stiles neck). His laugh, his tears, his smile. Everything. And it was a constant ache.

The second thing in Derek’s head was the moment before Stiles closed his eyes. The darkening of that beautiful brown hue – like the life was emptying from his irises. The feeling of blood as it washed over Derek’s knuckles. The little breaths escaping Stiles’ lips. His damn crooked grin, smiling like everything was going to be okay.

The hours passed by so slow.

Isaac never came back, Derek heard Scott whisper to Allison, something about Isaac probably curled up on Stiles’ bed. Jackson ghosted in and out of the waiting room. He’d show up every hour or so, but just for a minute before he was gone again. Allison and Scott were huddled together in the corner of the waiting room. Danny was gone – at the precinct, he’d offer to handle everything while Chief Stilinski waited at the hospital.

John was quiet. Sitting in front of Derek but never meeting eye contact. Derek could only hold himself back from blurting out pathetic apologies. Apologies of how this was his fault, that he did this to John’s son, that he was the one John should blame.

A few minutes before Lydia came out again, John had finally spoken up.

“I don’t blame you,” he said. Derek’s eyes bolted up to look at the man. He didn’t say anything back.

“I know you want to say it. You’ve been staring at me for the past hour, son.” The man finally let out a sigh and leans back against his chair, arms crossed. “I think Stiles would disown me if I tried to blame you in the slightest.” A pause. “He’s serious about you. You know that?”

Derek watches something spark in John’s eyes, but he can’t decipher it.

Derek looks up at him and nods.

“You know, you’d think I’d be somewhat used to sitting here, waiting on an operation that could determined the life of my only son. Sadly, no matter how many times it’s happened, It doesn’t change the fact that I’m terrified. That boy just loves giving me heart attacks.”

Derek feels something pain inside of him. He furrows his brows, sitting up a little straighter. “Danny – earlier, Danny mentioned something about everyone .. going through this too many times. What – what did he mean?”

A flash of something crosses over John’s face. “He hasn’t told you yet?”

Derek opens his mouth to reply but then the whoosh sound of a door gets everyone’s attention. They both jolt their heads to see Lydia walk in the room, a surgical mask pulled off her face, her eyes looking different than earlier. Strangely she looked more energetic than before the surgery.

John and Derek both stand and walk over to meet her. She gives Derek a look before sweeping her eyes to John. Derek can hear Allison and Scott walking up behind them.

Lydia sighs before, “We’ve contained the bleeding and extracted the bullet. The surgery was a success.” Her words conflict with her voice – with her face. Her eyes were holding something back, there was no happiness in her words. There was something else.

“But?” John’s voice was sturdy, unchanging.

“The amount of blood loss was too much for his body, his brain wasn’t receiving enough oxygen to maintain stability. He’s currently in a comatose state of consciousness.”

The words don’t seem to absorb into Derek’s head.

Not at first, at least.

But he can  _hear_ Lydia say these things.

He can  _see_  her red lips stretch around the words.

He can feel his chest caving in on his heart, the feeling of air emptying the caverns of his lungs. It was like a blow to the stomach, stripping Derek of everything.

A coma?

Did he hear it right?

Stiles was in a coma?

After the words finally sink into his pathetic, emotion-drunken mind, everything begins to collapse. His head begins to jump to mindless conclusions.

What if Stiles never woke up? Would that mean Derek would never be able to see those beautiful brown eyes again? Would he never be able to feel the stars in his arms again? Would he never be able to taste Stiles’ addicting lips?

Would he never feel whole again?

John clears his throat. “ _What?_ ” There they were, those eyes. They were so strikingly similar to Stiles’ – Derek realizes. “A coma? What – what do you mean? When will he wake up?” John says, finally, a break in his voice. It’s small, but everyone notices it. Scott’s hand finds John’s shoulder.

Lydia purses her lips. “We are unsure. Comas can last from only a few days to .. much longer. I can however say that in Stiles’ case, it isn’t a serious condition. I’d like to say he’ll recover in no time. Unfortunately for now, all we can do is wait until his body heals itself.”

When she finishes, Derek can feel his legs move on their own.

Unsteady, broken almost. He steps away from them, mind trying to remember the warmth of Stiles’ skin, trying to remember the soft feeling of his eyelashes against Derek’s cheek.

It hurts – hurts so much Derek’s vision is blurred. And he makes it outside of the hospital before his legs crumble and he has to brace himself on the wall. His elbow slams against it, but he can’t  _feel_ anything.

It’s all too much.

Meeting Stiles was the best thing to happen to him.

It seems, meeting Derek was the worst thing for Stiles.

He looks up at the full moon.

He hates it for being so beautiful when the night is so broken.

 

* * *

 

For the next few hours, he stands outside the hospital. Emptiness replacing anything inside of him. Numb, almost, but not quite. He wants to go in and see Stiles – but he doesn’t know if he can handle seeing Stiles on that bed, immobile and unconscious. He doesn’t want to go in and see the love of his life on the brink. He wants to see his beautiful boy, he wants to see his home – but there's too much fear.

_Coward._

A shuffle, footsteps, the first of sounds he’s heard in a long time.

Derek turns, surprised to see Jackson walk over and stand beside him. 

The blonde doesn’t look at him, just stares off into the distance. He digs his hand into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Derek watches him bring one to his lip, lighting it. He turns his body in a slight angle, offering the box to Derek.

“Smoke?”

“I, uh, don’t smoke.”

Jackson makes a hum before closing the box and putting it away. He puffs out a curtain of smoke. “I don’t either. Tried it once and Stilinski said I looked cool. Figured I keep a pack on me.”

Derek hums a reply. They stand in silence after that. Jackson blowing out smoke, it dancing in the wind before disappearing slowly.

When Jackson finishes the cig, he tosses it on the ground and drags his shoe over it. Derek smirks internally at the sight of the officer littering.

“Dan told me you asked ‘im about Stilinski.”

Derek looks over at him, the blonde still staring off into middle space.

He hums in agreement. “He - he told me you guys have done this before. What happened?”

Jackson scoffs letting out an audible sigh.

He doesn’t hold back his words, he doesn’t sugarcoat it. “His last boyfriend. He met the fucker in high school. Ian. Don’t even remember his fucking last name. Ian happened.” The way Jackson said the name – it was almost so cold Derek could feel the hatred on his tongue. Derek feels an uneasiness begin to uncurl from his heart.

“We thought he was okay. Stilinski seemed happy. He told me he was happy. I believed him.” A pause. “Huh. That was the first time he lied to me. At the gala, when he told me to go back inside, that McCall was on the phone with him – that was the second time he lied to me.”

Derek doesn’t say anything. He wants to ask, but lets Jackson explain.

“Anyways, he met Ian. Months passed and Stilinski seemed to change. He had that stupid smile, the one he fucking thinks I fall for – but I knew. I knew something was wrong. So I followed him one day. And then .. then I caught him. Caught the fucker hitting Stiles.  _Beating_ him. And the idiot was just taking it. Like he  _deserved_ it.”

Derek feels his chest become heavy. A quiet rage beginning to overtake his bones. Fist curling, jaw tightening. “ _What?_ ”

“Suddenly the fucking hospital visits made sense. The broken bones he blamed on clumsiness, the bruises he blamed on his ADD. He played me. The fucker was  _beating_ him. Every day. Every  _damn_ day and  I didn’t know. And Stiles was taking it. He  _smiled_ to me. On the hospital bed he  _smiled_ at me.”

Derek turns his body, anger surfing through his body. It is suffocating. He wanted to find this Ian and he wanted to break his bones. Break him for hurting  _his_ Stiles. “Where is the son of a bi-“

Jackson looks at him for the first time, his blue eyes perfectly steeled. He laughs. “You don’t think I dealt with him already? The moment I saw him bent over Stiles I was banging his head into the ground. He lost teeth.” Jackson turns back forward. “He’s locked up now. Stilinski apologized to me nonstop for a month. After every sentence he’d say ‘I’m sorry’ like I hadn’t already forgiven him. He wasn’t the same after that. I wasn’t the same. I’d never let another man touch him – let alone hurt him.” Jackson looks back at Derek, a fire in his eyes.

“That’s why you hate me,” Derek replies. Jackson chuckles.

“I hate you because you give him something I can’t give him.”

Derek furrows his brows in confusion. “What?”

Jackson shakes his head, chuckling again. “You make the little shit happy. I never thought any man could – not after Ian. But you, you make him the happiest I’ve seen in a long time.”

Something inside Derek changes – melts, from Jackson’s words. Somehow, this acceptance from Jackson – it changes something inside Derek. It has been the only feeling of solace all night.

“Go see the idiot. He’d want that.” Jackson pulls out another cigarette and lights it.

Derek watches him blow out another curtain of smoke.

“Thanks, Jackson.”

“Whatever. Touch him the wrong way and I’ll make sure your death looks like an accident.”

Derek smiles, nodding.

“Okay.”

He leaves the blonde and walks right into the hospital.

He had a beautiful boy to see.

 

 


	25. Eclipse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all.

Intensive Care Unit.

That's where they put Stiles.  _Intensive care._

Derek was standing there, in the ICU wing, somewhere inside his bones, he was still afraid. It was stupid – sad, almost. The vigor that Jackson put in him, it all dwindled the moment he stepped into the wing. A few steps away, was his  _sun._ He _knew_  that. Stiles was laying on a bed, waiting for him. The man who put Derek back together even when the pieces were so scattered. The man who took Derek in his arms, no matter how broken. The man who had summer in his skin, the man who gave Derek so, so much.

That man was here, he was laying on a bed. Waiting.

And Derek was standing here, like a  _coward_.

John left the hospital a few minutes ago – already having spent time with his son. The precinct needed him, and he was convinced that his son would pull through.  _‘Watch over him, son. I trust you.’_  Is what he said to Derek before he left.

Danny came by, too. He and another officer, Parrish, with him. They questioned Derek, got all the information they needed down. They both paid Stiles a visit too.

Scott and Allison came in together, surprisingly Allison was the one who came out red-eyed, tear streaked. Scott had to cover for Isaac and him at the firehouse, Allison had work too. Scott gave Derek a strong pat on the shoulder – offered a smile as well, before they left.

Derek stood there for a few minutes after that, his selfish body refusing to move. It seemed the hospital staff all saw him, but didn’t say anything. They passed by him politely, often giving him understanding eyes. Maybe they’d seen this before – a broken man unable to face his nightmares, unable to face his greatest fears.

A soft tap on his back.

“Excuse me. Can I help you?”

Derek turns to a familiar face. A short girl in blue scrubs – the same one from the emergency room. She was a nurse, bright green eyes and freckles on her face. The nurse – Rose, was her name – smiled softly at him.

He clears his throat once before answering. “Yea. Yea I’m looking for Dr. Stilinski’s room?” He knew where it was, of course. He’d been standing in the same spot watching his friends walk in and out of it. Nurse Rose looked like she knew of this, but she was polite enough not to mention it.

“Of course. This way?”

Derek nods, eyes following Rose for a few seconds before he forced his limbs to move.

His heart began to quicken, just slightly, throat suddenly dry.

Seconds felt like hours, but the double doors got bigger as they walked closer – they’d given Stiles a private room, Derek realized. Rose turns to him, her freckled face bright and happy, the doors slide open and Derek holds his breath.

This was it.

He steps in, reminding himself that Stiles made him a much stronger man than he was acting like right now.

The first thing he notices are the machines, a lot of machines, some of them beeping, some of them having moving lights. His steps were slower than he’d admit. Slow, slow, slow. With each step, he felt tears begin to well up in his eyes. Maybe his fingers were shaking, maybe he was moving inches a second. Maybe he was afraid of what he would see.

When did he get so weak?

Was it when the source of his strength collapsed in his arms?

Was it when his sun was eclipsed?

He forces himself to keep going, until the bed was in front of him, digging into his side.

Stiles looked pale, a thin tube taped to his mouth. His little moles stark against beautiful skin. Eyes closed, lashes long and dark.

He looked so gorgeous – even like this.

A few steps and Derek is on his knees, elbows on the bed, hands frantically searching for warmth. Derek’s hands close around one of Stiles’, bringing it to his lips. His kisses it once, twice, desperately, like it will do something to wake Stiles up.

“Stiles –“ He chokes out. Stiles knuckles are still warm, his presses them against his lips. Kisses them again.

Derek reaches a hand and places it gingerly against Stiles’ cheek. His fingers tremble as they drag across the soft skin.

“Hey,” he whispers. “I’m – I’m here. Your sourwolf.” He has to bite his lower lip to stop himself from crumbling. His eyes begin to burn softly, threatening to cry. He blinks them away. Stiles would call him a baby if he cried like this.

Derek stands up, one hand still holding Stiles’, the other, combing through the disheveled brown hair. “Sorry I’m so late.” His hair was soft as always, Derek tugs at it softly, the same way Stiles liked to wake up to on most days.

He leans down slowly, eyes closing. His lips press against Stiles’ forehead, he holds it there – some part of him still waiting for Stiles’ reaction. A soft smile and a kiss in return.

It doesn’t come.

He pulls back and watches Stiles still body.

The slow up and down of his chest, the stillness of his eyelids. His cheekbones sharper than usual, the hospital gown loose on his skin. Derek runs his fingers from Stiles’ hair down to his cheek, running it shakily across the bone. Slowly, he lowers it down to Stiles’ jaw, cradling it for a second before continuing down.

His finger stops at the collar of the gown, resting softly on Stiles’ collarbone. It was sharp, like it was carved by ocean tides.

The next part – he does without thinking, or maybe he’s thought about it so much he can’t help it anymore. It’s haunted his mind for the few past hours now.

He tucks his finger in the collar of Stiles’ gown and pulls it down softly – only enough to reveal the middle of his chest.

True to Jackson’s word, there were two white, jagged scars running down his chest. Derek could only see a small part of it – but that was enough to shake him down to the core of his bones. It looked so wrong, Stiles beautiful skin, it looked so wrong for this sanctuary to be tainted by such pain.

How strong Stiles had been, it was impossible to even know he was abused. He had been so clear, so passionate, there were no weaknesses in the way his eyes brightened.

Derek pulls the gown back up, swallowing down a dry throat.

He runs his hands once again through the forest of his hair, smiling softly.

“Wake up for me soon, okay?” He whispers softly, heart beating loud in his chest. “Wake up for me soon, Stiles.”

He hopes silently, that soon, the sun will rise again.

 

* * *

 

A soft voice wakes him up.

The first thing that rips through his mind is that, Stiles – Stiles has woken up.

Derek jerks awake, eyes wide – adjusting to the dim light.

A few blinks, hands gripping even tighter on the soft hand in his.

The beep, beep of the machine and dimly lit room. The soft whir of the intubator, the lights from the heart monitor. It all crashes realization down on Derek yet again.

Stiles, laying still, almost in the same position as last time, skin almost the same shade. He was still unconscious.

He didn’t wake.

“I have to call you back.”

He turns to see his dad on the phone, his eyes tired, hair let down in loose waves. He had unshaven stubble on his face, but he’d changed clothes.

“Dad..”

“Hey kid. Sorry to wake you.” His dad tucks the phone into his pocket, his face wearing an expression Derek didn’t see very often. It was serious, worried.

His dad walks over to him, placing a large palm on his shoulder.

“How you holding up?” His voice is quieter than usual, almost as if he’s afraid of Stiles hearing.

Derek clears his throat. “I’m okay.” He looks over at Stiles again, raking his eyes over every feature. Every curve – maybe making sure they’re the same as always.

“I came by to make sure you were okay. Your mom is handling things with the officials and Peter.” Derek hums in understanding, leaning into his dad’s grip. His eyes never leave Stiles’ still figure. “The doctors have high hopes on his recovery. They say it’s possible he’ll wake up in no time.” At first, it almost sounded as if his dad was just telling him what he wanted to hear – what he needed to hear. But he could feel the genuine tone in his voice, coupled with the grip on his shoulder, Derek knew his dad was truthful.

“I’m scared, dad.”

Hid dad walks around and crouches down, like he’s done so many times in the past, when Derek was little. Derek looks down at him, lets himself be protected by his father’s warmth.

“I know, kiddo. But Stiles is going to be okay. You need to believe that.”

“How could this happen? It’s my fault. I should’ve-“

“Derek Hale.” His dad frowns at him, brows furrowed. “Stiles told me he’d fixed your self-blaming problem, said he’d give you hell if you ever tried to apologize for something that wasn’t your fault. You telling me he lied to me?”

Derek opens his mouth slightly. In his head, he remembers the countless times Stiles told him ‘it’s okay, it’s not your fault’. He remembers the fire in Stiles’ eyes, the absolute belief that Derek wasn’t at fault. The trust he had in Derek – he never blamed Derek a  _single_ time. Even when Derek physically hurt Stiles, even when he screamed in his dreams, even if he pulled away.

Stiles never blamed him – and he never let Derek blame himself either. He was perfect, in this way. To go and blame himself now, Stiles would hate him for it.

Derek nods. “You’re right.”

His dad smiles, standing up. His palm ruffles Derek’s hair. Derek looks at Stiles again, this time smiling at the memories in his head. This was the same man, and when he woke up, he’d still be the same man.

He’d still be his Stiles.

“I bet your boyfriend will wake up by the end of the week.”

Derek looks at his dad with wide eyes. “D-dad ..”

His dad smiles at him, his eyes so warm. “Don’t give me that look. I don’t care who you love. I never have and I never will. As long as my boy is happy. And besides, you weren’t very discreet anyways.” His dad nods at Stiles’ and Derek’s joined hands.

Derek blushes slightly. “Thanks, dad.”

“Don’t mention it kiddo.”

 

* * *

 

His dad was wrong.

Stiles didn’t wake up at the end of that week.

He woke up earlier.

 

 


	26. Consciousness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello wonderful people. This work is somewhat coming to an end. Just some promised fluff to write, some loose ends to tie. Anything you guys would like to see? Every chapter I write is improptu, I don't ever have a set plot, so I have lots of room for whatever. If you do, lmk! If not, leave me any thoughts on the chapter :) Love you all

Everything hurt. The pain was like an aching weight in his chest. It was muted – most likely by morphine. He is conscious before he opens his eyes, he keeps them shut for a while. Just to take in all the pain coursing through his body.

It’s ironic almost. Stiles has cut so many people, cut them, fixed them, and saved them. But he never imagined being on the receiving end. It hurt. Like hell. Next time, he’d sympathize for his patients.

“You’re awake.”

He grunts. Letting the sound of the beautiful voice soothe his whining muscles. He was tired of hearing the machines beep and whir.

“Dr. Stilinski. I know you’re awake.”

He peeks his eyes open to find that, they indeed also hurt. Everything is blurry at first – and he knows this is okay. It’s just so strange. He knows how everything will feel before he feels it. It prepares him, almost. But the pain is still agonizing in every corner of his body.

His voice will be raspy. Throat will hurt. They have been feeding him fluids through an IV. It’s expected.

“Hey.”

Red hair swims in vision. Solid hazel eyes, wine stained lips. His savior and queen.

She walks over, checking his vitals. He watches her, everywhere she touches hurts.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like crap.” She smiles.

He watches her for a few more seconds, breathing in deep. “You did it.”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “Of course I did it, what kind of surgeon do you think I am? Everything I did was flawless. Not a single problem.” She grins and he grins back.

“How bad?” His voice croaks. She feeds him water through a straw. It hurts to suck. And swallow.

“The gunshot wound didn’t rupture any important organs or arteries. You are lucky. The blood loss affected your brain, left you in a minor comatose state.”

That’s the moment Stiles begins to panic. Because when he hears ‘comatose’, his mind completely goes into overdrive. Every single previous comatose patient floods into his head. All the times he’s fixed someone just to find that they are in a coma for so long. Some never come back. Others come back a different person. Muscles shrink from being unused for so long. Memories disintegrate. Life changes.

Lydia is quick to react, placing a gentle palm on his shoulder.

“How long? ”

She inhales through her knows, eyes softening. “You’re okay. You’ve been out of it for a few days, not long enough for any atrophy. You’re okay. You’ll have to stay here for a little while, but you already know that.”

He slumps back against the bed, pain rockets through his body alongside relief.

A few days.

How had he been so lucky?

His mind flashes back. The pictures were blurry at first, and it almost seemed like thinking hurt.

The shot was blind. Kate had shot him without looking. If she had been looking, there's no way she could have missed. She was too busy looking at – looking at..

“Derek! Where’s Derek!” He shoves up, feels the pain his chest anchor him, rocks his entire body.

Lydia frantically pushes him down. “Stop. Stop. Calm down. Stiles calm down.”

“Derek. Where’s Derek. Is he okay? Oh – oh god did he? Is he? What happened? Lydia where is Derek!”

The panic attack creeps up on him slowly, like the little waves at the beach. Lapping at his ankles slowly until the tide crashes onto him – taking away his air. The waves swallow him slowly until it eats him entirely.

Lydia is a stable weight, her touch brings him back to reality. His lungs burn like fire, muscles and bone hurt even worse. She holds him down, calm whispers – she’s Lydia. She knows exactly how to help him.

“Derek’s fine. He’s been by your side the entire time. I convinced him to get something to eat. Breathe. Breathe.”

He does. Breathe. It still hurts, but knowing Derek is okay, well that seems to numb the pain. He closes his eyes, the sudden exertion causes his body to tire. Derek is okay. He’s okay. He’s safe.

Everything is going to be okay.

 

* * *

 

A smack on the head.

Stiles was smacked on the head.

That was his dad’s way of greeting him after hours of surgery and days of unconsciousness.

“Ow! Dad, hello, I’m injured here.”

“What am I going to do with you?” Is what he says, eyes tired, a warm scotch color.

And then, then Stiles’ dad is on top of him, holding him gingerly but entirely. A shaky inhale from his nose, his skin is warm like it always is. Stiles hugs back, wrapping his arms as tightly as his weakened muscles will allow. His dad smells of the house he grew in, the warmth he grew up in. He closes his eyes and pictures his childhood, lets every little warm feeling creep back into empty bones.

“Dad, I’m so sorry.” He says, annoyed at the emotional rollercoaster the injury has caused him. Here he is, yet again, in the arms of a dad who is afraid of losing his only family. Selfish. That’s the first thing he thinks of himself. Selfish Stiles, always being a burden for his dad.

His dad pulls back and looks down at him, the same look in his eyes. The same glisten, the same ocean of worry and relief and fear.

“Don’t make me use your full name, Stiles. I know what you’re thinking, so stop it right now." His dad pauses for a long while, just staring at Stiles, a war behind those clear eyes. He sighs before speaking again. "I don’t want to do this anymore. I already ignored it for too long, son. No more secrets, okay?”

Stiles looks up at him, not a single clue on what his dad is talking about. Strangely, at the same time, it feels like he knows exactly what his dad means.

“Okay. No more.”

“I miss you, son. And I know you’re grown now. You pay your own rent, hell you’re a surgeon. I know it’s been a long time since you were my little boy. But I miss you. And all those years I neglected you, I shouldn’t have. I blamed myself for a long time.”

“Dad. Dad, I’ll always be your little boy.”

His dad smiles, and it feels genuine. Something rare, something Stiles would only see years ago.

“I know. Just – just don’t blame yourself for anything. You did it for so long and I let you. But not anymore. From now on, let’s just – let’s just be honest with each other okay?”

“Okay, dad.” He looks up at his dad, but doesn’t cry this time. It feels like a weight inside his chest is lifted, a weight that’s been there for a long time. He looks up at the warmth in his dad’s eyes, and he knows, he knows that his dad feels the same.

“I love you son. I mean it.”

“I love you too dad. Now stop being such a fuddy duddy. I’m fine.”

“Okay. I’m going to go to the precinct now. Promise me you’ll rest?”

Stiles nods, swallowing down stubborn refusals. He could do this for his dad. It was time to stop hiding, stop acting like his dad was some fragile man. Stop lying to his dad, stop trying to think of ‘what’s best’. It was time to just stop, stop and heal. Stop and _live._

 

* * *

 

The next time he wakes, the pain is better. Either from Derek’s safety or another round of pain meds, he doesn’t care. Now, he can breathe. Lydia’s gone. He looks around as quickly as his aching bones will allow him. There’s a warmth in his hands and that’s the first place he looks.

Strong knuckles wrapped in his hand. Strong forearms connected to a strong man. Derek. Asleep, head resting on the bed, slow and steady breaths escape his lips. Seeing Derek – seeing him alive and healthy, it makes the bullet meaningless. It makes the pain feel like nothing. For a second he wonders when his life became a romance novel, but it doesn’t matter because Derek hasn’t left him.

He stayed. By the broken boy broken in ugly ways. He’s here.

Long eyelashes curled under furrowed brows. Stubbled jaw, unruly thick hair. Stiles wants to call out, he wants to touch and kiss and feel and _live._

But the first thing he does is – is cry. Not sobbing, but just tears cascading down his cheeks. His life is actually a romance novel because his boyfriend is asleep by his hospital bed holding his hand.  And he loves this man, and maybe he should write a fucking book because it doesn’t get better than this.

He doesn’t make a sound but Derek stirs awake anyways. Like something just tells him to wake at this time to see his post-comatose boyfriend crying.

His eyes drift open slowly, blink a couple of times. Stiles recognizes it. It’s how Derek wakes up. Blinks a couple of times, smacks his lips, swallows.

What’s new is the moment he sees Stiles. His eyes widen to the size of Jupiter, the green is the brightest Stiles has ever seen it. So bright, like someone dusted emeralds in the corners of his irises. It’s beautiful and it’s home and it’s _Derek._

“Stiles.”

“Derek.”

He’s off his feet and kissing Stiles on the forehead. The brows. One eye. The other. Cheek. Nose. Skips the lips and kisses his jaw. Forehead again. The touch is like a fire – but it doesn’t burn. It’s like a constant warmth that’s never too hot. Cuts through the pain and the meds and everything, curling around his ribs and his lungs. “Stiles. Stiles.”

“It’s okay.”

“Can I kiss you?” It’s almost a plead, lodged into Stiles’ ear.

He grins. “Hell yes you can fucking kiss m-“

It’s soft – just like their very first kiss. The stubble scratches into Stiles’ skin, he hasn’t shaved but it feels good. Derek pulls back but Stiles opens his mouth lets out a whimper. That’s the only invitation Derek needs before he’s pressing his lips further, dipping his tongue inside Stiles. The kiss is slow and languid, like they are re-exploring something. The taste is the same. A moan escapes Stiles’ lips and they pull apart.

Derek looked gorgeous.

“You know when you said I couldn’t kiss anyone besides you? Well, the rule applies for you too.”

“Stiles-“

“I may have a giant incision in my abdomen and be doped up on pain meds, but the moment I’m better, I swear I’ll kick your ass.”

“I thought you liked my ass.”

“I do. It’s very cute. And fir- not the point. The point is, you’re mine. No one else. Mine. Derek Hale belongs to me. Might as well make a sign. Get a tattoo. Make t-shirts. Whatever. Mine.”

Derek grins so wide and something inside melts.

A kiss, soft, like a snowflake melting.

“Okay. Okay, Stiles. Yours.”

Everything would be okay. Stiles knew it.

 


	27. Sweet

Isaac and Scott _both_ cried like two kids. _Both_ of them. One of them started sniffling and then the other started sniffling and then tears and then bawling and then hugging. They were grown men who ran into burning buildings for a living. Two grown men piled on top of Stiles, crying and hugging and being absolute _babies._

Stiles feigned disgust when really his chest felt warmth. He couldn’t remember a time when they _weren’t_ here by Stiles’ side. He was just lucky they were here now, just like they had always been. Stiles pats their heads as they empty their eyes.

After their tantrum, Lydia threatens to call security and they reluctantly crawl off and wipe up their wet faces. Stiles smiles at the pair. It was unfair to them, the amount of times they’d been in this predicament. Watching Stiles in a hospital bed. It’d been years ago, yes, but he was sure they were both feeling the same pain.

But still, they were here. His boys. Isaac wearing one of Stiles’ ugly sweaters and pants, Scott still smelling of smoke. They didn’t judge and they didn’t lecture. But his boys, his boys were here to cry and mope and be drama queens.

It was good.

Eventually he got tired and Lydia threw them out. It was refreshing, the perfect remedy to waking up in a hospital bed. As Stiles shut his eyes for another nap, he couldn’t help but feel that something was still missing. And it was making Stiles so incredibly nervous. Because there was one thing that always _always_ happened when Stiles wound up hurt in any way. A scrape from falling on the sidewalk, a broken bone maybe, a burn from leaving the stove on – there was always one thing to save him. No matter how serious the injury, there was always one thing that happened.

Jackson. Jackson was missing.

It’d been days and Jackson hadn’t visited him yet. It was weird – and it made Stiles feel almost empty. Everyone had dropped by – even the entire Hale family dropped by. Talia and her warm smile, bringing these beautiful purple flowers. Laura half scolding an d half worried. Cora praising him and calling him awesome. Mark ruffling his hair and teasing him. Derek watching him fondly, like he belonged.

Aside from the Hale family, all of his friends had dropped by too, his close friends and all of his friends that worked in the hospital.

Danny even brought a couple of guys from the precinct as well, each saying he was one of ‘them’, now that he got hit by a bullet and survived. It was great and all, but Jackson was never among them. When Stiles asked Danny, the man was surprised at the fact. They all knew the blonde would be the _first_ person to be by Stiles side. It was always the case. After every thing. From high school till now.

Jackson chased off the bigoted bullies that hurt Stiles, he made sure to buck at anyone who made fun of Stiles. He made himself popular and then pulled Stiles under a protective wing. And when he found out about Ian ... there was little to stop the rage. Everything after that motivated him to go to the police academy. Jackson had always been there to protect him.

So, where the hell was he?

 

* * *

 

“Hey. It’s me. Stiles. Calling. _Again._ Would  you call me back? Or pick up the damn phone? I’m injured here. Got shot if you didn’t know. So call me back. I mean it.” He pauses for a second, holding the phone against his face. “I miss you. Call me. Please.”

Stiles ends the call to Jackson’s voicemail and tosses the phone at the far end of the hospital bed. He used please _and_ his pouty voice that always won Jackson over. If the man didn’t call him back by the end of the day, world war three was going to start.

A knock on his room door and Derek walks in. Stiles automatically smiles at the man. After persistent persuasion and many kisses Stiles finally convinced Derek to go home to properly rest and clean himself. Now, his scruff was back to its regular yumminess, his hair was contained, the rings around his eyes were better, and his skin was clearer. He looked really amazing – standing there at the doorway. Muscles flexing so slightly under his loose Henley, small hairs peeking from under his sleeves. Stiles had to be the luckiest guy on earth to get this man in front of him. The pink in his lips, the strength in his palms – Stiles could go on.

There was something about almost dying – something about feeling the life almost slip away from his fingers. He realized that he had so many things to do, so many things to say, so many things to feel. He wanted to tell Derek how much he loved him – not only in words but in every way he could. He wanted to tell Derek how much of his life he wanted to spend with him. He wanted to love him as long as Derek would allow. It was insane, how there was so many more things he noticed, now that he was alive and awake again. So many things he never noticed before, not only in Derek but in all of his friends.

It was like his eyes finally opened – opened to the thousands of things he’d missed before. There was no time for self-pity, self-blame, there was no time to hate himself, no time to count his scars. He had to appreciate everything he had before him. A loving father, a great group of friends, a second family, .. and a perfect lover.

He wouldn’t waste any more time. As a surgeon, he saved many lives, he stitched together so many people. He saw the way they appreciated living. Stiles finally knew how it felt. He had to stop imagining Derek leaving him everytime they kissed. He had to stop with the ‘what ifs’.

At that moment, as he saw Derek standing there in the doorway, Stiles decided that he would never let another minute go to waste. He’d love until his heart couldn’t love anymore.

“You’re doing it again.”

Stiles blinks at the man. “Doing what?”

“Staring at me.” Derek walks into the room, his hand holding a tray of hospital food. He puts it on the bed table and sits Stiles up.

Stiles watches him set up lunch, poking a straw into the juice carton. The man refused Stiles of any freedoms. He couldn’t eat by himself, Derek had to feed him. He wasn’t allowed to use the restroom by himself, Derek had to walk him in, take off his pants, and politely look away. He couldn’t do _anything_ without overprotective Derek.

“Sorry. Just thinking.”

Derek looks up at him with the look he reserved for Stiles. He feeds Stiles a spoon of food and Stiles opens his mouth without arguing.

“Thinking about what?”

He chews and swallows the food before replying. Derek is watching him, but not analyzing or worried. His eyes are soft – like he is just admiring Stiles’ features, like he is staring at something he loves to look at.

“You. Me. Life.”

Derek chuckles. “Don’t hurt yourself now.” He lifts the spoon to Stiles’ lips. “Open wide.”

Stiles does so, biting the spoon to spite Derek. The man glares at him before pulling the spoon away, smiling.

Stiles grins and swallows. “Derek.”

The man looks up at him, attentive from the tone of Stiles’ voice.

“Did you mean it? What you said before. When you said that .. you loved me. Did you mean it? Or were you just telling me what I wanted to hear before you stupidly traded yourself to Kate?”

Derek doesn’t seem to think about it, but the question isn’t expected. He puts the spoon down in favor of cupping Stiles’ jaw. The touch is warm and Stiles can never get used to how good it feels. He nuzzles his face into it so that it holds his cheek instead. Derek watches him with the same eyes, green and rippling.

“Stiles I have never lied to you. I meant what I said back then, and I will mean it every time I say it in the future. You – you mean the world to me. When I met you I didn’t even know my last name. But you didn’t care, you gave me everything and so much more. I am who I am now, because of you. So I mean it when I say I love you, Stiles Stilinski. I meant it then and I mean it now.”

Stiles can’t do anything but smile. Derek leans in and kisses him, slow and deep. Kissing Derek is like sipping wine – slow but it takes all of you. Their tongues against each other, Derek swallowing any moan that escapes Stiles’ lips. They pull apart and Derek smiles.

“Sweet.”

Stiles blushes. “Hey Derek?”

“What?”

“Say it again.”

“Sweet?”

“No. Not that.”

“I love you?”

Stiles smiles wide. “Yea, that one.”

 

* * *

 

Ring. Ring.

Stiles tears his eyes away from the terrible drama playing on the hospital tv – how his patients could watch these things, he would never know. His hands search for the ringing phone somewhere across the foot of the bed. He retrieves it to read the name.

_Jackson._

He swipes across to answer, practically slamming the phone into his ear.

“Hello? Jackson?”

“Hey. Stilinski. I’m – calling you now. So don’t get mad.” The man’s voice was low and his words were slightly slurred– like he had a glass or two of whiskey. Jackson could hold his alcohol, and you could never tell he had been drinking, but Stiles could tell just from his voice.

“You’re drinking?”

The sound of ice rattling against a glass confirms Stiles question. “Yeah. I’ve only had two glasses.”

Suddenly, Stiles feels lost for words. “You needed to drink before you could call me, you ass?”

“Helps with the headache.”

He felt strange. “Are you – are you okay, Jackson?”

The sound of ice against glass continues, like Jackson was rotating it in his palm. “Why did you do it?”

“What-?”

“Why did you lie to me Stiles? You said – you said you’d never lie to me again. After Ian.”

“Jackson, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about at the gala.” His voice had elevated. “You lied to me. Told me it was McCall on the phone. Told me to go inside. It wasn’t McCall. Why did you lie to me?”

“Jackson, she told me she had a gun pointed at your he-“

“I don’t _care_ Stiles! I’ve thought about it for hours. I should have known – I should have known.”

A silence.

“Jacks .. I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t have just let you get hurt.”

Jackson’s voice is on the edge of yelling, but there’s a quiver – a shake. Jackson’s voice never shook. “And what about you! What about you, Stiles! I fucking swore to never let you get hurt again. For fucking years I never let you out of my sight. Because – because I ...”

Stiles doesn’t say anything. He wants to hear the next few words but Jackson doesn’t continue the sentence.

“It’s my fault. I should have known. I should have known. When I heard that gunshot – god, Stiles. I was so scared. I thought – I thought you were gone again. I thought I lost you again.” It sounded like he was holding back tears.

“Jackson, I’m here. I’m alive. And you would it know if you just came by to see me. Why aren’t you here? Why have you been avoiding me?”

“Because I don’t want to lose it! I don’t want to lose you! I’m afraid that if I see you on that fucking hospital bed, that you’ll go and lie and fall away again. I can’t. I won’t.”

Jackson, admitting he was afraid? His voice trembling?

“Jackson. Promise me. Promise me you’ll come see me tomorrow.”

A silence.

“Jackson. Please.”

“Yea. Okay.” A pause. “Don’t lie to me ever again. I’d rather eat the bullet.”

“Jackso-“

“Just say it, Stiles. Say you’ll never lie to me again. And then I’ll come by.”

Stiles lets out a breath. “Okay. Okay, Jackson. I’ll never lie to you again.”

The sound of ice against glass and then the line ends.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a tiny more of feeling. Sorry. This chapter got away from me :)


	28. Anew

“ _So_ , I must say you are looking absolutely stunning today.”

Lydia strolls into the room without even glancing at Stiles. She checks his chart with a straight face. “Yes, I know I do.”

Stiles clears his throat and tries again. “Have I told you how great your scrubs look on you? Blue really is your color.”

She lets out a sigh and looks at him with a blank face. “I’m not letting you go home early. Two more days, at _least_ one for observation. You’ll be out by the weekend.”

“But I’m fine! Stilinskis bounce back from anything. Ask my dad. I’m invincible.”

Lydia scoffs throwing her red hair behind her back. Derek walks in, returning from the restroom. He nods at Lydia before making way to his chair next to Stiles.

She smiles at him and makes her way to the door. “Derek, your boyfriend is hitting on me and frankly I’m repulsed.” 

Derek looks at Stiles with raised eyebrows.

“Am not!” Stiles crosses his arms and sits back. “I am just tired of this hospital.”

Lydia stops at the door before leaving. “Well, that’s unfortunate seeing that you work here. Now be a good boy and I’ll check on you tomorrow morning. If it looks good I’ll discharge you.”

Stiles grimaces at her. “ _Fine_.”

Before Lydia can leave Derek calls out. “Lydia.”

She peeks back into the room and looks at Derek. “Yes?”

“My family is having a dinner at the house this Sunday. To celebrate Stiles’ recovery and the charity gala’s earnings. I’d love it if you could come, my parents would like to meet Stiles’ friends.”

She beams, her eye warm at the kind gesture. “I’ll be there. Should I bring something?”

He shakes his head and smiles in return. “Just yourself is fine.”

She nods and then leaves the room.

Derek turns back at Stiles, running fingers through his hair. “How’s my guy feeling?”

Stiles feels his heart beat faster at the possessive word. He had it for Derek _bad._ “I’m good. Great, actually. Could run a marathon.”

Derek grins at him. Stiles can’t imagine the last time he’d seen the man so .. happy. It felt like their relationship had finally fallen into something so comfortable and complete. They knew each other and things felt right for once. If there was one good thing the shooting had done, it would be bringing Stiles and Derek closer. It was time for healing, not only for Stiles, but for Derek as well. Whatever storm they faced – it seemed they were able to brave it out. It really did make Stiles feel invincible. It made him feel like nothing could break them down.

Derek is here and he is smiling. His eyes are bright and dangerous, his hands are so warm they’re like the summer.

“I’m proud of you babe.”

Derek’s eyes widen, a blush creeping on his ears and neck. “W-what?”

Stiles smiles wide, both on his face and in his heart. “I love it when you get all shy and flushed. My big bad wolf.”

He puts on his grumpy face and pulls his fingers away from Stiles’ hair. “Stop making fun of me.”

“Don’t go.” Stiles scoots over, feeling a subtle ache in his surgical incision. He pats the space next to him. “Come ‘ere.” Derek glares at him, Stiles rolls his eyes. “Oh just come here.”

The man reluctantly climbs on the bed, Stiles immediately curls into him, one body so familiar with the other. Derek is warm and smells amazing, his strong arms wrap around Stiles, one leg coming over Stiles’. Stiles tucks his head in Derek’s neck, savoring the feeling. He could never get enough.

“I mean it.” His voice serious now. “I’m proud of you.”

Derek’s voice gets quieter, one hand rubbing up and down Stiles’ back. “For what?”

“For not beating yourself up. I know somewhere inside your head you’re blaming yourself for this. But I can tell you’re fighting it. I don’t have to tell you it’s not, I think you already know that. Life’s too short to blame yourself for things you can’t control.”

Derek kisses him on the top of his head, holding it there and breathing in his scent. He leans back, nuzzling his face against Stiles forehead. “I know.”

Derek doesn’t say anything else, so Stiles changes the subject. “So, a dinner huh?”

Derek hums in reply. “It was my mom’s idea. Said it would be good to get everyone together and enjoy a good meal. With all the chaos, it would be good to just settle down again. And my parents want to meet your friends.”

Stiles pulls up so that he can kiss Derek. The other man leans down and their lips meet. A sharp inhale through his nose and he is opening his mouth for Derek, feeling pleasure swim through him. It’s enthralling. Not just the kiss, but everything he has with this man. His lips and his warmth and his words – there isn’t a place they can’t reach inside Stiles.

Never again did he expect to find this feeling, not after his past. He was right in a sense – because this feeling is so much better than any rendition of ‘love’ he thought he had experienced. This is something so pure and exhilarating that it’s almost impossible to frame with words.

Stiles pulls back, enjoying the stubble burn and kiss-swollen lips. “Where have you been all of my life?”

Derek grins, eyes blurred with content and amusement. “In the woods.”

 

* * *

 

A knock on his open door and Stiles looks up from a medical journal he was reading.

A tall nurse with wavy chocolate hair walks in. His face is familiar – Stiles had probably seen him around sometime. “Dr. Stilinski, I’m David,” he says, grinning with stunning white teeth. “I came to check up on you. Dr. Martin is in surgery at the moment.”

Stiles sits up and smiles back. “Hey. Stiles – you can call me Stiles. And yea, sure, check away.”

The nurse begins his checkup, his eyes lingering on Stiles’ skin. “I uh just wanted to say I admire your work doctor.”

Stiles smiles at the man. “Stiles.” David nods and grins. “Thank you. I do what I can.”

David goes to the foot of the bed to write in Stiles’ chart. He looks up and smiles. “So, Stiles. How often do you date nurses?”

Stiles chuckles at the bold question. “Uh, not often, I have to say.”

The nurse closes the chart and crosses his arms. “Well how about we change that?”

Before Stiles can say anything to David, someone clears their throat loudly, grabbing both of their attentions.

Jackson is standing in the doorway, his face unamused. His blonde hair was combed perfectly, face clear of any signs of a hangover. He was wearing casual clothes, a vneck and jeans. Muscles easily threatening under his thin shirt, his eyes a cold blue. “Uh how about we don’t. Now get out.”

“Excuse me? I’m his nurse-“

“And is shameless flirting included in your job description?” Jackson raises his eyebrows in question.

David bites his lip and frowns.

“That’s what I thought. Now get out and don’t touch him again.” He clenches his fist and raises his thumb, gesturing outside the room. He sucks his teeth twice, tilting his head towards the door.

David lets out a sigh, rolling his eyes, and then reluctantly exits.

Stiles leans up and shouts as the nurse makes an escape. “Bye David! Sorry!”

Stiles beams at Jackson. “Jackson, that was rude.”

The blonde scoffs. “He’s lucky I didn’t run him over for touching you.”

“He was _examining_ me. It’s kind of his job. Now stop being an ass and get over here.”

Jackson looks at the chair pulled up to his bed and decides to stand on the other side. “Where’s Hale?”

“ _Derek_. You don’t have to like him, but at least call him by his name. We _are_ dating now. And he had to handle something with work.”

He looks up at Jackson, trying to find the same man who spoke to him on the phone last night. As much as he looked – he couldn’t see it. This was the Jackson he knew. Calm and collected. It was like the trembling and scared Jackson barely existed. A ghost.

“Are you mad at me?”

Jackson looks away. “No.”

“You look mad to me.”

“I’m not, alright?” He lets out a sigh to signify that he was at least trying to be friendly. He looks back at Stiles with softer eyes. “I was worried.”

 “You didn’t visit.”

“I’m visiting now.”

“Jackson, you didn’t visit.”

“I’m visiting now.” He repeats.

“Jackson it wasn’t your fault.”

The sudden words widen Jackson’s eyes. He stands up straight and crosses his arms. “Look, whatever I said last night, I didn’t mean it.”

Stiles continues. “You can’t protect me from everything, you know.”

“I can try.”

Stiles lets out an exasperated sigh. He offers an open palm. Jackson looks at it like it’s poisonous. “Give me your hand.”

Jackson just stares at him.

“Just give me your hand.” The man exhales, rolling his eyes and placing his hand in Stiles’. Stiles holds it tight, Jackson looks at him in question.

“I’m not a teenager anymore Jackson. I’m not going to break if the wind blows a little too hard. Not every man who touches me is Ian.” The last sentence causes Jackson to narrow his  eyes, hand clenching Stiles tighter. A quiet fire that has never burned out. “You’ve done so much for me and you never say anything about it. Never take credit, never use it against me. I fall and know you’ll be there to catch me. It’s great and all, but it needs to stop. I owe so much of my life to you. But I can’t always depend on you to be there and protect me, Jacks. I’m okay. Do you hear me? I’m okay now.”

Jackson says nothing, his eyes unchanging. Stiles continues. “Derek .. Derek is good. He’s good for me. You might not believe it, but it’s the truth. I told you I’ll never lie again. So this is the truth. He’s good. I’m happy – I’m happy with him. Do you trust me, Jackson?”

Jackson looks away for a second, as if he doesn’t know the answer – or he doesn’t want to admit it. But a second passes and he nods his head a couple of times. “Yes.”

“Then believe me when I say I have him now. And he’s the right one for me.”

There's a second of sadness in his eyes, but then it’s gone. Jackson slips his hand out of Stiles’ hold and then – and then he smiles.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Jackson leans down and hugs him – hugs him so tight. It’s been so long it almost feels impossible. While still holding him, Jackson whispers. “But I swear to god Stiles, if he ever hurts you, I’ll make him wish he never laid eyes on you.”

Stiles pulls back and kisses Jackson on the cheek. “The Hales are having a celebratory dinner this Sunday. I want you to come.”

Jackson pulls back, his eyes the warmest Stiles has ever seen.

He nods, turning. “Yea, okay.” On his way out he turns back. “No sex before marriage. I expect abstinence.”

Stiles throws a pillow at him. “Jackson!”

Stiles can hear him laughing down the hall.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you can see, I updated the amount of chapters this work will be. I finished the last three chapters and will be uploading them all by the end of this week. A special gift for everyone! To be honest, when it comes to reading other works, I never finish. I always leave the last chapter of anything I read, whether it be a novel, or a fanfiction, I always leave the final chapter unread. It's weird but yea. Seeing as this is also the first work I have written and finished, I hope I get some leniency on the way I write the ending.
> 
> Thanks to all who have stuck it out!


	29. Welcome

“Stiles, son. You look great. ”

Mark pulls him into a hug, his hands ruffling Stiles’ hair.  He’s warm and strong, just like Derek. Mark pulls away and smiles down at him.

“Thanks, Mark.”

“Mark!? What is this nonsense. Call me dad. Daddy. Pop. Whatever works best for you.”

Derek then walks into the room red faced. “ _Dad._ Will you please stop.”

Mark grins like a child. “What?” Derek frowns at him and Mark shrugs. “Fine fine. I’m going to the store to pick up some more stuff for tonight. I’ll be back. Do you need anything son?”

Derek shakes his head. “No.”

Mark raises an eyebrow. “I was talking to my _other_ son.”

Stiles chuckles at Derek’s embarrassment.

“ _Dad!”_

“Alright alright I’m gone.” He twirls the keys in his hand and leaves through the front door.

Derek lets out a heavy breath before turning to Stiles. “Sorry about that.”

Stiles watches him with amusement. “No need to apologize.” He grins, relieved to be out of the hospital. He stayed _two_ extra days in the hospital just to be sure, much to Lydia’s enjoyment. He was discharged in the morning with a peck on the cheek from Lydia. _‘See you tonight. Rest up.’_

He still had some nasty bruising and cuts, but most of it healed. The pain was annoying but he was prescribed pills for that. His body still got tired easily and the gunshot wound hurt like a bitch, but everything was going to be okay. He was allowed a long break from work and prescribed rest and nutrients. His Dad forced him to stay here instead of alone at the loft, saying he and Talia had an agreement on his post-surgical care. Stiles didn’t complain much, he loved this house and the people in it.

Talia’s mothering care. Mark’s childish humor. Cora’s badass badass-ery. Laura’s sisterly banter. Peter’s .. well Peter was Peter.

“I’ve been meaning to ask – how is Peter?”

Derek nudges Stiles to sit on the couch while gently taking off his jacket and hanging it. “There’s just a few legalities to take care of, but other than that, he’s good. He was deemed innocent under the self defense law. The only thing is the media. We have professional publicists and lawyers handling it all. The media is flooded from the incident at the gala, but it’s being handled. Don’t worry about that stuff. Worry about resting. Big night tonight.” He gently pushes Stiles backwards on the couch.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Derek how many times do I have to say I’m fine?”

The man fluffs a couch pillow at least five times and tucks it behind Stiles. He pulls up an ottoman and rests Stiles’ legs on it. A random throw blanket appears out of nowhere and is draped on Stiles lower body. “It doesn’t matter because I won’t listen. You were _shot_ Stiles. Take it easy.” He leans down and hovers his lips right above Stiles’, not quite touching. Hands sliver slowly down his waist, fingers slipping under his shirt to touch the skin there. Derek’s voice gets low and his breaths are light. “Please? For me?”

Stiles feels shivers down his spine. “Uh-huh. O-okay.” Stiles leans in for the kiss but Derek pulls away, with a pirate grin.

Stiles feels himself blush, glaring at the man. “Hey! That was cheating. No seducing injured people.”

“Exactly. Injured. Glad you agree. Now sit back and rest.”

Stiles ‘humphs’ and crosses his arms. Derek chuckles before leaning back down, nose against nose. Stiles looks down before Derek’s fingers bring his face up. He closes the inch and kisses Stiles. The kiss is hungry and deep, strong hands cupping his jaw, soft sounds emptying their mouths. Stiles softly bites Derek’s lower lip and he growls, low and in his throat. They break apart, Derek continuing to place kisses along Stiles’ jaw.

Derek pulls away smirking. “Better?”

“I think I’d like to go back to the hospital now.”

Derek laughs placing a chaste kiss on Stiles’ cheek. “Not gonna happen.”

“Well, could you at least cuddle with me or something, I’m feeling a little cheated here.”

The man smiles fondly before sitting besides Stiles, sticking his legs under the blanket and wrapping an arm around Stiles’ waist. Stiles shifts and places his head on Derek’s shoulder, snuggling into him. He lets out a sigh, feeling the aches in his body slowly smooth away. Months ago Derek barely knew his own name, and now .. now he knows Stiles like the back of his hand. He knows where Stiles likes to be petted, he knows which spot to kiss when Stiles’ is angry. He knows how hard to tug his hair, he knows where to scratch his scalp. He knows the spot on Stiles’ neck that makes him moan, he knows how hard to bite his skin. He knows about the scars and he knows to kiss them.

He knows and he accepts.

Derek turns on the t.v. to some random nature show, Stiles snuggles into the warmth. The t.v. starts talking about gazelle but all Stiles can hear is Derek’s heartbeat and his own. He can’t help but think that they sound so much better together than they do alone.

He closes his eyes, listening to this, listening to their existences. It’s impossible to describe – how right it feels. It’s like the lights have suddenly turned on, or it’s like he can finally see clearly. Suddenly, the ocean is a puddle and Stiles is no longer drowning.

Suddenly, he can breathe.

 

* * *

 

Stiles wakes up to the sound of pages of a book being flipped. His head is resting on a couch pillow, Derek’s warmth absent. He sits up and rubs his eyes, his body a little sore but cushioned by the rest. Derek is gone and the lights in the room have been dimmed, the t.v. turned off. Extra blankets have been draped on him, and his body is re-positioned so that it lays only on the couch.

“You’re awake.”

Stiles looks to the other couch to see Peter sitting with one leg resting on the other, a book in his hands. He takes off his glasses and closes the book, offering a small smile.

Stiles sits up and blinks the sleepiness from his eyes and hums in response. “Hey Peter.”

“Derek went to help Talia cook. Dinner’s not for a few more hours though. He asked me to watch over you. How are you feeling?”

“Sore.”

Peter furrows his brows slightly, looking concerned. “Have you taken your medication?”

Stiles nods. “Yea, still hurts though. But how are you? I asked Derek and he said you were swamped with legal stuff.”

The man raises his brows before sitting back, letting out a sigh. He seems to think about his answer for a bit before speaking. “Well I did shoot three people, so there’s really no easy way out. Even though they didn’t _die_ , it’s still a serious-“

“Wait, what?” Stiles blurts it out after hearing the last sentence.

Peter looks at him carefully. “Pardon?”

“You said – you said they didn’t die.” He bites his lip. “You’re saying Kate’s alive?”

The man hums. “Yes. I did what I had to to protect my family, taking extraordinary measures, hence the firearm. I shot her and the men she was with in order to immobilize them. It wasn’t in my intentions to murder anyone. I just did what I had to.”

Stiles says nothing, Peter continues with another sigh. “Look, Stiles. When my nephew disappeared, I spent every waking minute trying to find him. He’s my family, and no one hurts a Hale and get’s away with it. Kate hurt my nephew to the point where he will never forget the things she did to him. That makes me absolutely furious. I want her gone as much as anyone else in this house does. But if I had murdered her that night, there woudn’t have been any justice. I hope you understand that.”

Stiles looks down to his lap, his hands fisting the blanket in white knuckles. “Yea. Yea, you’re right. I’m sorry. You must think I’m some psycho. Here I am, a man who has taken an oath to save lives yet I want a woman dead.”

Peter sits up looking at Stiles with warm eyes. “Stiles, no one is thinking anything. She hurt Derek, she hurt someone you love. You are entitled to think that. It doesn’t make you a different person.”

“It’s just – she hurt him so bad. When I found him – it was .. it was terrible.” He can feel tears welling up in his eyes. All of this emotion that has been built up since he woke up from the shooting. He’s been trying to stay optimistic and happy, pushing away all the sadness. But now, all the denial of negative emotions, it comes up to surface as he speaks. The sadness that he’s kept at bay, the realization of everything that has happened – it comes full throttle.

“When I found him, he was acting as if he was _trained_ not to be a human being. Not being able to sleep or eat or _sit._ And then I found out what she’d done to him – how she hurt him, why she hurt him. It was just – it was just too much. Torturing and abusing .. all for money? It just wasn’t right. Ever since the beginning I wanted her gone, I wanted her to be punished for hurting Derek.”

“And so she will. She’ll be in prison for a very long time. She’ll never hurt Derek again.”

Stiles looks up at Peter, feels the tears streak down his cheek. He isn’t sobbing, but there is trembling. Tears darken spots on the blanket in front of him. The man clears his throat and stands, pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket and handing it to Stiles. Stiles takes it with an unsteady hand, wiping his face.

“Stiles, I wanted to apologize. If only I had reacted sooner, maybe I could’ve prevented your injury.”

Stiles shakes his head fervently. “No – no. You don’t have to apologize for that. I’m just happy you saved Derek.”

Peter smiles. “I’m glad Derek has found someone who loves him so much. I just want to let you know, if you or your father ever need anything from me, I promise I’ll do my best to provide. You saved my nephew more than once. You saved him even when you didn’t who he was. You stood by his side when he couldn’t stand by himself. You traded your life for his safety. You have a place in this home, and you have a place in this family.”

Stiles finds himself grinning, a warmth filling his heart. “Peter, thank you.”

With that, Peter stands, making his way out of the living room.

Stiles calls him before he makes it through the door. “Peter, your handkerchief.”

Peter turns his head and chuckles. “Keep it. It’s not much, but it does have the Hale crest on it.” Stiles looks down at the fabric.

In the center of the fabric is a large triskele, three swirls interconnected. It is embroidered with care, each spiral symmetrical.

“Welcome to the family, Stiles.” With that, Peter leaves the room.

Stiles runs his fingers along the swirls, his teardrops staining the beautiful stitching.

 It felt good.

It felt _right_.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter will be posted Friday!
> 
> Some more loose threads tied here. Peter apologizing to Stiles and finally accepting him into the family. Mark being a child and making Stiles call him dad while embarrassing Derek. :)


	30. Whole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! Long message at endnotes. Thanks for reading :)

“Can I help you with anything?”

Talia looks up from the stove at Stiles. Her smile is wide and warm. The entire kitchen smells amazing, different foods sizzling and steaming. Talia is at the stove, her hair tied up in a bun. She looks young as ever, eyes pure and smile encompassing.

“Stiles, honey, good to see you up. Come, come you can help me taste the food. Derek had to go get Cora.” She gestures for him to sit at one of the stools at the bar.

He makes his way over, a familiar orange furball appearing and following him to the stool. “Hey there.” The cat glares at him but climbs up his legs anyways, circling a few times before sitting in his lap.

“How are you feeling sweetie?” Talia talks to him as she cooks, it all reminds him of his mother. It isn’t a bad reminder, but a fond feeling. He watches her as she moves around the kitchen.

“I’m doing good. Derek is taking good care of me.”

Talia grins. “I bet he is. I’ll tell you, I have never seen my son so attentive for anyone. If you ask me, I think he’s got it bad.”

Stiles can’t help but immediately flush. It was crazy how the Hales so easily accepted him. They barely even doubted him at all, they took him in and accepted him almost immediately. At first, Stiles thought it was because he saved Derek, but now, he knows that that isn’t the reason. This wasn’t obligatory, they truly cared for him. Everyone was just so open to his and Derek’s relationship. Stiles would’ve assumed some precaution, due to Derek’s last relationship and his recovery state. But Derek hadn’t asked or even said anything. He just took Stiles into this home and everyone just _knew._ Just knew that he and Stiles were a thing – and they accepted it.

“You’ve got a look.”

Stiles looks up, blinking. “What?”

“I’ve raised three children, Stiles. I know a look when I see it. You’ve got a question you want to ask. There’s no need to be afraid in this house. You’re welcome to treat it as your own home.”

Stiles ducks his head, trying to find the right words. Talia doesn’t pressure him, just continues making food.

“I don’t mean to sound rude, but how come everyone’s so nice to me? That sounds a little rude, I’m sorry. What I’m trying to say is .. I don’t know what I’m trying to say actually. Sorry, I don’t meant to ramble, I ramble when I’m nervous.”

Talia chuckles, looking up at him with warm eyes. “Stiles, honey, calm down. You haven’t offended me. I told you to speak freely and you did.” She wipes her hands on a rag and addresses him fully. “It’s true that you saved my only son. It’s also true that you are a doctor and that’s your job. But the way you took care of Derek, the way you still do, I know that comes from your heart.”

Stiles looks up at her, she smiles at him.

“You love him, unconditionally and wholly. And he loves you too. Whenever he walks into a room, you are the first person he looks for, maybe you are the only person he sees. I meant what I said about him never being so attentive to anyone. You two love each other and it shows. You’re welcome in this home because you love Derek and care for his happiness. Anyone who can make my son smile like that is a Hale without question.”

Stiles feels like a mom in the maternal ward of the hospital, because the kind words hit him hard. Either the pills have a strange side effect or Peter must have broken him because he’s crying _again._ And this time it isn’t silent, he’s making little choked sounds and the cat in his lap is just judging him but he can’t stop because he’s never felt so _accepted_ before. He can’t wait for his dad to meet his second family because they both could use the loving.

Talia lets out a ‘oh, honey’ before making her way over and hugging him tightly. He cries into her shoulder and it won’t stop so he doesn’t fight it. Talia rubs his back with the heel of her hand because the rest has food on it.

She suddenly stops and pulls away. “Great! Derek, son. Come hug Stiles for me, my potatoes are done.”

Stiles looks up at the doorway with blurred eyes. Derek is standing there with his leather jacket on, eyebrows furrowed in worry. He looked beautiful. He immediately rushes his way over to Stiles, pulling him in a tight hug. His arms wrap around Stiles protectively, lips kissing the side of his head while making ‘shh’ sounds.

“Stiles, what’s wrong?” He stops the sobbing and takes in the cool air that lingers on Derek’s jacket, that and his body warmth. He slides his hands beneath Derek’s jacket and warms his hands on the muscled chest. Derek flexes his muscles under the shirt and hugs him tighter. “Mom, what did you do to Stiles?”

Talia scoffs, the sound of the oven opening and closing. “Oh Derek don’t be ridiculous.”

Footsteps echo and enter the room. Stiles looks up to see Laura staring at him. She drops her jaw at the sight of his wet face. She runs up to him, slapping Derek.

“Derek! What did you do to Stiles!”

Derek swivels Stiles in the stool so that he faces Laura while still hugging him. “Nothing! Mom did it!”

“I didn’t do anything!”

The sound of plastic bags and dress shoes on tiles. Mark enters the room and shouts. “LAURA! WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY SON!”

Derek shouts. “I’m fine dad!”

“NOT YOU. MY OTHER SON.”

Laura shouts back. “Nothing! Derek did it!”

“Mom did it!”

At that same time Cora comes in from the dining room. “Why is everyone screaming!”

The cat in Stiles’ lap purs and Stiles hums in agreement.

Stiles pets the furball as everyone starts yelling. “Yea, me too bud, me too.”

 

* * *

 

The first to arrive are Allison, Isaac, Lydia, and Scott. It seems everyone is already acquainted from hospital visits so there isn’t any awkward greetings. Allison greets everyone and immediately ducks into the kitchen to help prepare food. Lydia and Laura set the table and start talking about the recent fall fashion line of whatever company. Isaac and Scott easily get along with Mark – their childish humors blend and they start telling jokes to Cora.

Stiles sits at his seat at the table, ordered to rest. Derek chooses to sit with him, still inseparable from Stiles’ random crying. They sit there, chairs pulled together thigh against thigh, side by side. He isn’t crying anymore but makes Derek hold his hand anyways.

Derek presses his forehead to the side of Stiles’ head, lips whispering in Stiles’ ear. “So, you going to tell me what that was all about? What did mom say to you?”

Stiles hums absently while watching his friends get along with the Hales. “Just some things.”

“Stiles.” He holds Stiles hand a little tighter. “Tell me. Don’t like it when you cry.”

“ _Fine._ You big baby.” Stiles watches Cora place her hand on Isaac’s shoulder, both of them bent over laughing. Scott and Mark smiling at each other, both holding a glass of champagne. Lydia and Laura are squealing over who knows what, but it’s good to see them both happy. Talia is making aww sounds from the kitchen and Stiles can only assume Allison is telling her about an animal at the shelter she works at.

“Your mom sai-“

“John!”

Stiles looks over to the door to see Peter walking in his dad, Danny, and Jackson, all in their uniforms. He automatically smiles, standing and tugging Derek along. His dad is shaking hands with Mark, who then shakes hands with Danny and Jackson.

Stiles makes it over to the crowd to hug his dad. “Dad. Glad you could make it.”

His dad makes an ‘oof’ sound and hugs back, tight. “Hey son. How are you feeling?”

Stiles pulls away and grins up at his pop. “Good. Derek is taking good care of me.”

His dad faces Derek  with a genuine smile, warmth almost palpable as it fills his face. Surprisingly he pulls Derek in for a hug, albeit a rather manly one. He pats Derek on the shoulder with a strong arm and whispers something which makes Derek’s eyes widen.

His dad pulls back and smiles again.

Talia enters the living room with a steaming pot in her hands, she brightens at the sign of new guests. “Dinner’s ready! You made it just in time.”

Those few words send nearly everyone scrambling to find a seat. Stiles chooses the seat next to Jackson, who is talking to Danny. Peter sits at the far end of the table, watching carefully as Mark and Derek fight over who sits next to Stiles. Derek wins and Mark pouts as he goes to sit at the head of the table, next to Talia and John. Isaac and Scott look like starved wolves as they stare at the wide array of food, quietly arguing over who gets the biggest piece. The girls all sit across from each other and are talking secretively while pointing towards Stiles and Derek.

Dinner starts in no special way, only Talia gesturing and saying ‘enjoy, there is plenty of seconds’. She winks at Isaac and Scott and they both blush. Everyone starts digging in and conversations get bounced around. It’s like a holiday dinner – everything feels comfortable even if this is the first time it’s happened.

It’s chaotic and and loud, but also warm and homey.

Stiles doesn’t mind, because this is his family.

Home is where the heart is, and Stiles can’t imagine anything he loves more than the people in the room.

It feels fucking good to be home again.

 

* * *

 

“This is where you ran off to.”

Stiles turns around to find Derek stepping out on the deck. He smiles and turns back around, staring off at the shifting trees in the distance. Derek walks up and stands beside him, elbows resting on the ledge. The night is quiet and peaceful, the air relaxing. The moon is full and bright, its light dipping down between clouds and smog. There’s a gentle wind that combs through the trees, swaying them softly under heavy moonlight.

It reminds Stiles of the night he met Derek.

How far they had come since then.

Who knew walking in those woods would change his life?

“What are you thinking of?”

Stiles leans his head on Derek’s shoulder, the man wraps an arm around Stiles’ waist.

He lets out a light sigh. “You.”

“Oh yea? What about me?”

Stiles stares up at the sky, the clouds moving slowly across a midnight canvas. His stomach full, his heart even fuller. Derek by his side, a warm piece that completes Stiles.

“Your mom, she said she could see how much I loved you. And I think – I think she was right. I do. I do love you, Derek Hale. More than I could imagine possible.  And I hope it doesn’t scare you off because I can’t imagine a day waking up without you there kissing me with your scratchy beard. And I can’t imagine coming home to an empty loft, because home isn’t really home without you. Call me crazy but I can imagine myself spending the rest of my life with you. And I know, I know that sounds pretentious, I know that. But I can’t think about tomorrow without picturing you right there next to me. What I’m trying to say is – what I’m trying to say is I love you and I don’t want you to leave. Ever.”

Derek turns him so that they face each other. The moonlight curves around his skin so beautifully, he truly looks magnificent as the lights dip in and out of his pure green eyes.

“Hey, hey. Who said I was going anywhere? You’re mine and I intend to keep it that way.”

“Yeah?”

Derek smiles. “Yeah.”

Derek leans in for a kiss. This time it’s chaste – quick. A habit they plan on continuing.

Stiles leans into Derek’s chest, resting his ear right above the steady heart beat. Derek wraps his arms around Stiles, protecting him from the cold.

“Hey Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“What did my dad say to you?”

Derek chuckles. “Something about you being his only son and if I ever hurt you, he’d have to _respectfully_ deal with me himself.”

Stiles giggles, feeling Derek wrap his arms even tighter around him.

“I promise I’ll never hurt you.”

“You don’t have to promise me that. I know you won’t.”

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you too. Even if that means I have to sleep through your ridiculous snoring.”

Stiles pulls away, mouth wide open.

“I do not snore jerk!”

Derek smiles down at him.

Stiles wouldn’t mind staring at that smile for the rest of his life. Even if that mean’t he’d have to suffer from stubble burn kisses and a grumpy sourwolf.

 _‘It feels good.’_ he thinks to himself. _‘To no longer be broken in your arms.’_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that concludes my first ever fanfiction work, Broken In Your Arms. I just want to say thank you to all of my readers, kudosers, and commenters. It has been a few months but I got it done, all thanks to all the support from you guys. Thanks to all who stuck with me even after the accidental deletion of 24 chapters! Please leave me a comment telling me what I could've improved or maybe your favorite parts, because I do plan on continuing to write. It may be a few before I post another Sterek work, but I do have ongoing Stucky and Thorki works that I update weekly. For anyone who wants to see more of my work, please author subscribe! Other than that I hope everyone had safe holidays. 
> 
> Thank you dearly,  
> goldxblooded


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